POTS  AND  PANS 


OR 


STUDIES  IN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 


BY 

ARTHUR  EDWIN  BYE 


PRINCETON  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 
PRINCETON 

LONDON  :  HUMPHREY  MILFORD 

OXFORD  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

1921 


Copyright,  1921,  by 

PSIHOXTON  UHIYKBeiTT  PRMS6 

Published,  1921 
Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


ERRATA 
P.  ii8,  line  2  for  manet    read   monet 

P.    149,     "      5     "      CANNOT       "       CAN 
p.    177,     "      2     "      MAX  "       JUST 


4753^)6 


PREFACE 

Still-life  painting  is  a  field  of  artistic  activity  which 
has  been  neglected  by  writers.  Countless  volumes  have 
been  published  dealing  with  art  epochs,  or  the  great  na- 
tional schools  of  painting,  rehgious  painting,  figure 
painting,  illuminated  manuscripts,  book  illustrations, 
engraving,  etc.  There  are  few  books,  however,  deaHng 
with  special  problems  in  painting  such  as  that  of  land- 
scape. No  volume  discussing  the  particular  problem  of 
still-life  painting,  either  historically  or  aesthetically,  has, 
to  my  knowledge,  ever  appeared. 

It  has  been  my  aim  to  remedy  this  apparent  lack. 

Still-life  painting  is  a  modest  art.  The  pots  and  pans, 
or  the  fruit  and  flowers,  the  humble  elements  composing 
a  still-life  picture,  perforce  make  the  painter  and  his  art 
as  modest  as  themselves.  And  so,  in  keeping  with  the 
character  of  my  subject,  I  have  endeavored  to  present, 
in  as  simple  a  way  as  possible,  the  charm  of  still-life 
painting  and  its  historic  development. 

The  book  is  intended  for  lovers  of  art.  Conscious 
of  the  fact  that  neither  my  title  nor  my  subject  will  ap- 
peal to  those  who  understand  nothing  of  art,  I  have  not 
endeavored  to  be  popular.    Neither  have  I  attempted  to 

[vii] 


Vlll  PREFACE 

be  technical.  The  readers  to  whom  this  book  is  likely 
to  appeal  are  those  who  already  have  a  cultivated  appre- 
ciation for  art  and  a  never-failing  interest  in  it.  To 
those  I  address  myself. 

No  further  preface  is  necessary.  I  wish,  however,  in 
this  place  to  acknowledge  my  indebtedness  to  those  who 
have  aided  me  in  my  work.  To  Professor  Frank  Jewett 
Mather,  Jr.,  who  read  my  manuscript  and  offered  many 
valuable  suggestions  for  its  improvement,  I  owe  many 
thanks.  His  brilliant  style  as  a  writer  and  his  keen 
critical  discernment  have  been  a  constant  inspiration  to 
me,  just  as  the  supreme  accomplishment  of  the  still-life 
pictures  of  Emil  Carlsen  has  given  me  that  conviction 
of  the  aesthetic  importance  of  still-life  painting  which 
I  needed  for  my  work. 

To  my  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Carel  Heldring,  I  must 
also  express  my  gratitude.  Without  his  encouragement 
and  sympathy  I  would  have  lacked  much  of  the  enthu- 
siasm which  fortunately  I  possessed. 

I  must  also  acknowledge  my  appreciation  of  the  as- 
sistance furnished  by  the  following  persons  who  courte- 
ously lent  photographs  for  reproduction :  Messrs.  Emil 
and  Dines  Carlsen,  Mr.  Henry  Rittenberg,  Mr.  Hugh 
Breckenridge,  Mr.  Robert  Macbeth,  Mrs.  Cornelia  B. 
Sage  Quinton. 

Arthur  Edwin  Bye. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


PAOI 


Preface    vii 

List  of  Illustrations xi 

Chapter  1.     The  Historic  Prejudice 1 

Chapter  2.     Foreninners  of  Still-life  Painting. . .  21 

Chapter  3.     Dutch  and  Flemish  Still-life  Painting  43 

I.  Pots  and  Pans 45 

II.  Trophies  of  the  Hunt 57 

III.  Fruit  and  Flowers 68 

IV.  Herring  and  Wine 81 

Chapter  4.     The  Vanitas  and  Bodegone  Painters 

of  Spain 89 

I.     Alonzo  Vasquez 91 

II.     Velasquez 92 

III.  Valdes  Leal 96 

IV.  Pereda  98 

Chapter  5.     French  Still-life  Painting 99 

I.  Chardin    101 

II.  Courbet    107 

III.  Manet   113 

[ix] 


X  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

IV.     Fantin-Latour   121 

V.     Vollon    126 

VI.     Cezanne 132 

VII.     Impressionism  and  Post  Impres- 
sionism     140 

Chapter  6.     Chinese  and  Japanese  Still-life  Paint- 
ing    151 

I.     Chinese  Flower  Painting 153 

II.     Japanese  Still-life 163 

Chapter  7.     Modem  Dutch  Still-life  Painting. . .   175 

Chapter  8.     American  Still-life  Painting 189 

I.     Flowers  191 

II.  Fish 201 

III.  Ancient  and  Decorative  Objects. .  209 

IV.  Conclusion 224 

Index 229 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 


PAGE 

FEONTISPIECE 

26 
S6 

30 

so 

34 


Mandarin  Beads,  by  Emil  Carlsen     .     .     . 
Dream  of  St.  Ursula,  by  Vittorio  Carpaccio     . 

Still-Life,  by  Jacopo  de'  Barbari 

John  Arnolfini  and  His  Wife,  by  Jan  van  Eyck 

Legend  of  St.  Eligius,  by  Petrus  Christus 

Banker  and  His  Wife,  by  Quentin  Matsys 

Market  Scene,  by  Joachim  de  Beukelaer 

St.  Jerome  in  His  Study,  by  Albert  Durer     ....     36 

Melancholia,  by  Albert  Durer 36 

Portrait  of  George  Ghisze,   by  Hans  Holbein,   the 

Younger,       . 40 

The  Two  Ambassadors,  by  Hans  Holbein,  the  Younger     40 
Interior  of  an  Inn  (detail),  by  David  Teniers,  the 

Younger       48 

Interior  of  a  Farmhouse  (detail),  by  David  Teniers, 

THE   Younger,        48 

Interior  of  a  Farmhouse  (detail),  by  David  Teniers, 

THE   Younger, .     50 

The  Misers,  by  David  Teniers,  the  Younger,     ...     50 

The  Housemaid,  by  Gerard  Dou 52 

The  Alchemist,  by  Gerard  Dou 62 

The  Grocery  Shop,  by  Gerard  Dou 54 

Grace  Before  Meat,  by  Nicholas  Maes 54 

Paternal  Advice,  by  Gerard  Terborch 56 

[xi] 


XU  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING 
FAGS 

A  Market  Stall,  by  Willem  van  Mieeis     .     .     .     .     .  56 

Dead  Game,  by  Franz  Snyders 58 

Dead  Gtame,  by  Franz  Snyders     ........  60 

Partridges  and  Woodcocks,  by  Jan  Fyt 60 

A  Trophy  of  the  Hunt,  by  Jan  Baptiste  Weenicx     .  62 

A  Dead  Hare,  by  Jan  Weenicx 62 

Dead  Game,  by  Dirk  Valkenburg 62 

Dead  Game,  by  Jan  Weenicx 64 

Eagles  Attacking  Fowl,  by  Melchior  d'Hondekoeter  66 

Still-Life,  by  Jan  de  Heem 70 

Still-Life,  by  Jan  Davidszoon  de  Heem 72 

Still-Life  with  Fruit,  by  Pieter  de  Ringh     ....  72 

Festoon  of  Fruit,  by  Jan  Davidszoon  de  Heem     .     .  74 

Still-Life,  by  Abraham  Mignon 74 

Flowers,   by  Abraham   Mignon 76 

Fruit,  by  Jan  van  Huysum 76 

Fruit,  by  Jan  van  Huysum 76 

Fruit  and  Flowers,  by  Jan  van  Huysum 78 

Flowers,  by  Rachel  Ruysch 78 

Flowers,  by  Abraham  van  Beyeren 80 

"Breakfast  Piece,"  by  Pieter  Claesz 82 

"Breakfast  Piece,"  by  Pieter  Claesz 84 

Still-Life,  by  Willem  Claesz  Heda         84 

Still-Life,  by  Gerrit  Willems  Heda 86 

Still-Life,  by  William  Kalff 86 

Still-Life,  by  Jan  Jans  Treck 88 

"Vanitas,"  by  Franciscus  Gysbrechts 88 

Still-Life,  by  Jan  Jans  Treck 88 

Pipes,  by  Hubert  van  Ravesteyn 92 

The  Omelette  Woman,  by  Velasquez 94 

The  Steward,  by  Velasquez 94 

Allegory  of  Death,  by  Valdes  Leal 96 

Allegory  of  the  Brevity  of  Life,  by  Valdes  Leal     .     .  96 

Still-Life,   by   Chardin     ....          102 

Fruit,   by  Chardin 104 

Still-Life,  by  Chardin 108 

Still-Life,  by  Chardin 108 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS  XIU 


FACING 
PAGE 


Apples,  by  Courbet 11^ 

Still-Life,  by  Eduard  Manet 118 

Study  in  Flowers,  by  Fantin-Latour 124 

Fruit  and  Flowers,  by  Antoine  Vollon 130 

Flowers,  by  Antoine  Vollon 132 

Still-Life,  by  Francois  Bouvin 132 

Pears,  by  Cezanne 134 

Still-Life,  by  Cezanne 134 

Still-Life,  by  Claude  Monet 140 

Blue  Hydrangeas,  by  Jacques  Emile  Blanche  .  .  .  142 
White  Peonies,  Lustre  Jug  and  Red  Lacquer  Box,  by 

Jacques  Emile  Blanche 142 

Melons,  by  Yam  ad  a  Do  an 166 

Egg  Plant,  by  Yamada  Doan 166 

Poppies,  Wheat,  and  Natane  Flowers,  by  Sotatsu  .  168 
Vase  of  Flowers  and  Rising  Moon,  by  Harunobu     .     .  170 

Surimono,  by  Hokkei 172 

Still-Life,  by  Maria  Vos 182 

The  Cast-Off  Toys,  by  Lizzie  Ansingh 184 

Wreath,  by  John  Lafarge 194 

Poppies  and  Mignonette,  by  Maria  Oakley  Dewing     .  194 

Peonies,   by  Wilton  Lockwood 196 

Spirea  and  Single  Dahlias,  by  Howard  Gardiner  Cush- 

ING        198 

Roses,  by  J.  Alden  Weir 200 

Fish,  by  William  M.   Chase 202 

Chrysanthemums,  by  Henry  Rittenberg 206 

The  Lady  of  the  Iris,  by  Henry  Golden  Dearth     .     .  210 

Still-Life,  by  Emil  Carlsen 214 

Still-Life,  by  Emil  Carlsen 216 

Still-Life,  by  Emil  Carlsen 216 

The  Spanish  Brazero,  by  Dines  Carlsen 218 

The  Bronze  Bell,  by  Dines  Carlsen 220 

Still-Life,  by  Emil  Carlsen 220 

Still-Life,  by  Dines  Carlsen 222 

The  Chinese  Jar,  by  Hugh  H.  Breckenridge     .     .     .  224 

The  East  Window,  by  Childe  Hassam 226 

Still-Life,  by  Adelaide  Chase 226 


CHAPTER  1. 

The  Historic  Prejudice 


POTS  AND  PANS 


CHAPTER  1 

The  appreciation  of  still-life  painting  has  grown  in 
recent  times  with  the  development  of  taste  and  the  un- 
derstanding of  the  true  meaning  of  art.  We  must  say 
that  it  has  grown — even  though  there  may  appear  to 
have  been  a  period  of  neglect — for  neither  art  nor  its 
appreciation  can  stagnate,  decay,  even  for  a  moment; 
decay  implies  death.  But  in  a  sense  the  pursuit  of  still- 
life  painting  is  a  return,  inasmuch  as  it  reached  its  height 
in  the  seventeenth  century,  with  the  Dutchmen. 

Today  the  aesthetically  cultivated  man  or  woman 
regards  a  fine  example  of  nature  morte  with  the  same 
pleasure  as  he  would  a  landscape  or  a  portrait.  One  is 
forced  to  admit,  however,  that  a  certian  amount  of  con- 
noisseurship  is  demanded — unless  indeed,  one  be  in- 
stinctively gifted — to  appreciate  a  still-life  picture  to  the 
extent  that  it  might  deserve.  A  Chardin  may  have 
painted  it ;  it  may  be  exquisite  in  tonality,  harmonious  in 
design,  delicate  or  rich  in  coloring,  but  there  lurks  half 
hidden  in  one's  unconsciousness,  that  a  group  of  mere 
objects  cannot  have  the  claim  to  one's  permanent  affec- 
tion as,  for  instance,  an  expansive  landscape  with  at- 

[3] 


'  '    *  '  '    '  POTS  AND  PANS 


mospheric  distance  and  overarching  sky,  which  by  its 
suggestion  of  cosmic  vastness,  impels  one  to  philsophic 
thought,  or  again,  an  intimate  landscape  which,  by  its 
poetic  associations,  leads  one  to  contemplate  eternity. 
One  may  affirm  to  oneself,  "My  knowledge  tells  me  that 
still-life  pictures  have  equal  claims  with  any  other  kind 
to  being  works  of  art ;  my  definitions  of  art  tell  me  so." 
Why,  then,  this  lurking  doubt? 

Few  persons  escape  the  prejudices  of  their  age,  and 
few  can  live  uninfluenced  by  the  opinions  of  the  crowd. 
Those  who  do,  however,  and  there  are  such,  can  scarcely 
be  unaware  of  the  attitude  of  mind  which  environs  tiiem. 
And  so  one  asks  why? 

By  the  average  visitor  at  an  exhibition  still-life  pic- 
tures are  considered  prosaic.  The  bouquet  of  flowers 
seems  never  so  beautiful  as  a  bunch  of  real  flowers  which 
anyone  can  obtain  so  easily  at  the  flower  shop  around  the 
comer.  Why  paint  an  imitation  of  the  reality  which 
can  be  possessed  by  a  tithe  of  the  cost  of  the  picture? 
The  platter  of  fish  seems  an  actual  offense,  recalling  as 
it  is  apt  to  do,  unpleasant  sensations  of  feeling  and  smell. 
How  can  one  have  such  a  picture  about?  The  popular 
prejudice  against  pictures  of  fish  is  well  illustrated  by 
a  story  concerning  the  former  Emperor  of  Germany. 
The  painter  William  M.  Chase  had  on  exhibition  in  Ber- 
lin one  of  his  remarkable  studies  of  fish.  The  hanging 
committee,  who  well  understood  the  excellences  of  the 
picture,  were  anxious  for  the  Kaiser  to  examine  it.  "But 
I  do  not  like  Fisch/*  the  monarch  exclaimed.  "No?"  a 
committeeman  responded,  "but  you  must  see  how  well 
these  are  painted."  "I  do  not  like  Fisch*'  the  Emperor 


[4] 


W 


THE  HISTORIC  PREJUDICE 

repeated,  and  in  spite  of  all  remonstrances,  this  was  all 
they  could  get  the  Kaiser  to  say. 

If  we  take  another  subject,  say,  the  basket  of  vege- 
tables— ^what  aesthetic  suggestions  do  these  create? 
What  has  food  to  do  with  art?  And  again — ^there  is 
that  picture  of  old  jugs,  pots  and  pans.  Perhaps  there 
is  more  excuse  for  that,  the  doubter  will  agree,  for  these 
old  things  demand  a  certain  amount  of  respect  we  always 
pay  to  age,  but  what  enthusiasm,  after  all,  can  these 
arouse? 

He  is  confirmed  in  his  doubts  by  the  scarcity  of  still- 
lives  he  finds  in  the  galleries.  There  is  about  one  to  every 
hundred  portraits,  genre  subjects,  religious  or  mytho- 
logical canvases  and  landscapes.  Surely  the  authorities 
believed  that,  comparatively,  still-lives  are  unimportant. 

The  fact  is  that  fewer  still-life  pictures  are  painted. 
There  are  few  on  the  market.  The  art  dealers  are  partly 
responsible  for  this.  I  know  of  an  incident  which  illus- 
trates the  attitude  of  the  art-buying  public  towards  this 
branch  of  art.  An  artist  who  painted  still-life  pictiu*es 
as  well  as  landscapes,  but  who  was  most  skillful  with  his 
still-lives,  sent  in  several  of  his  works  to  an  art  dealer 
for  exhibition  in  his  show  rooms.  The  landscapes  were 
kept,  but  the  still-lives  were  all  returned.  The  art  dealer 
acknowledged  the  still-lives  to  be  better  pictures,  tech- 
nically— even  aesthetically — ^but  the  landscapes  would 
make  a  larger  appeal. 

Those  who  hold  still-life  painting  in  slight  esteem  have 
historic  arguments  to  back  them,  if  they  know  it.  There 
are  good  reasons,  and  historical  ones,  for  their  attitude. 
There  has  always  been  a  school  of  aesthetics  which  main- 

[5] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

tains  that  art  should  be  sublime,  should  uplift  and  en- 
noble humanity.  And  most  art  lovers  would  subscribe 
to  this  belief. 

Many  have  been  the  purposes  attributed  to  art,  even 
insisted  upon,  for  it.  That  art  should  have  a  moral,  a 
religious,  or  a  philosophic  purpose,  is  perhaps  the  most 
historic.  Art,  for  all  we  know,  may  have  been  bom  of  the 
desire  upon  the  part  of  primitive  man  to  produce  or 
symbolize  the  image  of  his  god,  or  to  picture  his  deeds. 
At  the  dawn  of  civiUzation  in  Egypt,  Chaldea  or  Assyria 
art  is  certainly  inseparable  from  religion.  As  we  rush 
through  the  centuries,  we  find  that  during  the  Periclean 
age  of  Greece  art  becomes  the  chief  expression  of  re- 
hgious  and  philosophic  thought.  Sculpture  portrays  the 
dignity  and  the  sublimity  of  the  gods,  it  ennobles  the 
human  form  and  makes  the  body  the  means  of  express- 
ing transcendental  ideas.  All  other  art  reflects  this  type. 
Even  to  the  decoration  of  the  meanest  pot,  scenes  from 
the  lives  of  the  gods  or  god-like  heroes  are  portrayed. 

It  is  later  in  the  Hellenistic  period  that  genre  subjects 
are  introduced  into  art — episodes  from  everyday  life, 
like  little  children  playing  with  fowl  or  boys  pulling 
thorns  from  their  feet.  Classic  art,  however,  is  philo- 
sophic or  religious  in  its  purpose,  as  it  upholds  the  god- 
like ideal  of  perfection.  This  classic  ideal  Kngers  on  in 
art  as  long  as  the  Graeco-Roman  period  lasts,  for  nearly 
one  thousand  years,  until  the  decorative  ideal  of  the 
Orient  and  its  contempt  of  form  prevails  in  the  sixth 
century  of  our  era,  and  when  also  the  northern  conquests 
change,  for  a  time,  the  entire  course  of  civilization. 

But  the   classical   ideal   is   never  extinguished.    It 

[6] 


THE  HISTORIC  PREJUDICE 

bursts  forth  again  in  the  so-called  Italian  Renaissance 
and  again  in  the  French  Revolutionary  period,  and  is 
alive  to  this  day,  with  its  nobility  of  form,  and  subUmity 
of  purpose.  The  beholder  of  a  painting  by  any  one  of 
the  great  artists  of  the  Italian  Renaissance — Giotto, 
Masaccio,  Fra  Angelico,  Raphael,  or  Michelangelo,  is 
transported  from  the  commonplace,  the  vulgarity  of 
ordinary  life,  to  the  serene  calm  of  a  higher  world.  In 
the  sixteenth  century  Italian  art  is  transplanted  to 
France.  Francis  I  summons  to  Fontainebleau  the  best 
talent  he  can  obtain  from  Italy — Leonardo,  Cellini  and 
others.  A  century  later  the  brilliant  courts  of  Louis 
XIV  and  Louis  XV  attract  artists  from  all  Europe. 
From  this  time  on  France  stands  at  the  head  of  the  mod- 
em art  world  aesthetically,  and  French  art  thus  carries 
on  the  torch  of  classic  tradition. 

So  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  great  majority  of  laymen, 
and  even  of  critics — those  at  least  uninitiated  into  the 
esoteric  teachings  of  painters  themselves — hold  firmly 
to  the  principle  that  art  must  conform  to  the  classic 
standard  or  ideal  of  form,  and  that  it  have  the  philo- 
sophic quaUty  of  sublimity.  There  are  only  a  few  types 
of  picture  that  can  answer  such  definitions  of  art.  The 
religious  picture  comes  perhaps  foremost ;  one  thinks  of 
Fra  Angelico,  Bellini,  Perugino  and  Raphael  as  having 
made  the  most  universal  appeal.  Then  comes  to  our 
minds  the  purely  imaginative  picture.  By  that  is  meant 
the  glimpse  into  a  world  of  dreams  by  which  the  beholder 
is  transported  out  of  himself  for  the  moment.  Some- 
times this  is  romantic  in  character,  as  in  a  Watteau; 
sometimes  mystical  as  in  a  Rossetti  or  a  Bume- Jones; 

[7] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

but  it  is  not  the  real  world  that  is  portrayed.  Certain 
kinds  of  genre,  because  of  their  uplifting  character,  like- 
wise appeal  to  these  persons — pictiwes  of  homely  inci- 
dent, chiefly  pathetic  as  in  a  Greuze  or  a  Hogarth — 
which  are  not  at  all  classic  in  character.  They  wish  life 
pictured  with  an  emotional  stress — some  chord  of  sym- 
pathy with  suffering  humanity  must  be  touched  so  that 
the  beholder  of  the  picture  becomes,  temporarily  at  least, 
as  when  hstening  to  a  sermon,  a  better  man. 

The  pubhc  is  often  right.  The  well-deserved  popu- 
larity of  Millet  is  easily  understood.  He  pictured  peas- 
ants with  a  sympathy  perhaps  the  most  intense  in  art. 
He  was  a  realist  as  well  as  a  romanticist,  for  he  painted 
real  life — not  for  the  sake  of  realism,  but  for  the  sake 
of  humanity.  He  was  more  than  either  of  these  how- 
ever; he  gave  his  peasants  a  transcendental  reality — a 
cosmic  quality  as  they  worked  in  their  broad  fields  under 
the  overarching  sky.  They  became  patriarchal — arche- 
types of  mankind.  Like  Michelangelo's  prophets  they 
are  thoughtful,  serious  and  profoimd.  They  seem  to 
sum  up  the  struggles  of  the  human  race  throughout  the 
ages,  so  that  there  is  something  classical  about  them. 
One  is,  in  the  end,  carried  away  from  the  commonplace. 

It  is  no  wonder  that  those  who  look  to  Millet,  Puvis 
de  Chavannes,  Bume-Jones,  Watts,  as  ideal  painters, 
can  find  little  enjoyment  in  a  still-life.  They  are  per- 
fectly consistent  as  far  as  they  go.  But  their  trouble  is 
that  they  have  formed  a  narrow  definition  of  art.  If 
they  had  studied  their  Dutch  masters  as  well  as  their 
Italian  and  French,  their  definition  would  have  been 
broader. 

[8] 


THE  HISTORIC  PREJUDICE 

The  prestige  of  France  has  for  the  last  two  centuries 
overshadowed  the  glory  that  was  Holland's.  The  pres- 
ent active  interest  in  things  Dutch  is  the  result  of  the 
nineteenth  century  revival  of  Dutch  art  under  Israels, 
Bosboom,  the  Maris  brothers,  Mauve  and  Jongkind. 
But  it  is  surprising  how  little  is  known — how  little  writ- 
ten about  the  art  of  Holland  compared  to  what  is  known 
and  written  about  Italian  or  French  art.  If  one  doubts 
this,  let  him  look  for  a  history  of  Dutch  art  and  he  will 
find  at  best  a  very  inadequate  obsolete  work.  The  re- 
liable works  are  confined  to  monographs  and  individual 
studies.  Vermeer,  one  of  the  greatest  of  the  world's 
painters,  is  a  discovery  of  the  last  generation.  Campin, 
Gerard  David,  are  resurrections  of  the  modem  archivist. 
Dutch  art  has  a  totally  different  historical  backgroimd 
'  from  the  Italian.  Here  in  the  north  there  was  no  clas- 
sical tradition  with  monumental  remains  to  influence  the 
development  of  a  new  school.  The  Gothic  statue,  the 
illimiinated  missal  were  its  sources.  Gothic  artists,  as 
we  now  know,  derived  their  types  from  hiunanity  about 
them.  There  was  first  a  realistic  phase,  then  an  ideal- 
istic, to  be  succeeded  by  an  emotional.  But  in  the  Low 
Countries,  the  interest  in  life  about  one  never  forsook  the 
artist.  He  remained  far  more  independent  of  tradition 
than  the  Italian  artist  ever  was.  Dutch  art  came  to  its 
matiu*ity  during  the  Protestant  revolt,  and  at  the  same 
time  as  the  rise  of  patriotism  in  Holland  and  Flanders. 
(These  two  coimtries  became  independent  of  Spain  be- 
tween 1568  and  1648) .  Thus  it  became  not  the  purpose 
of  Dutch  art  to  portray  Christian  dogma  and  to  teach 
it  to  the  people,  but  rather  to  devote  itself  to  civil  and 

[9] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

individual  needs.  Flushed  with  their  new-found  inde- 
pendence the  Dutch  tended  to  be  individualistic  in  their 
thought.  They  became  intensely  interested  in  them- 
selves, in  those  around  them  and  in  every  aspect  of  life. 
Hence  the  group  portrait,  intended  for  the  adornment  of 
the  town  hall,  the  guild,  or  council  chamber.  Hence  the 
various  types  of  genre — aristocratic,  domestic  and  peas- 
ant ;  hence  also  the  landscape,  the  animals  and  game  and 
the  still-life.  The  democracy  of  the  Dutch  people  like- 
wise tended  to  bring  art  closer  to  the  lives  and  interests 
of  the  average  citizen.  Art  was  to  be  confined  no  longer 
to  the  church  or  to  the  palace,  but  devoted  to  the  home. 

Contrary  to  those  who  held  that  ordinary  life  was  too 
mean  for  art — ^that  art  should  occupy  itself  with  god- 
like things — sublime  motives — ^the  Dutch  felt  that  noth- 
ing was  too  mean  for  art,  or,  to  be  more  exact,  they  felt 
that  art  could  ennoble  all  life.  The  subject  matter  did 
not  count ;  it  was  the  artist's  attitude  toward  it  that  mat- 
tered, and  his  ability  to  penetrate  its  beauty.  Hence  de- 
veloped the  theory,  essentially  modem  in  the  western 
world,  but  old  to  the  east,  that  beauty  can  be  discovered 
anywhere. 

What  was  the  beauty  that  Brouwer  discovered  in  his 
dirty  cellars  filled  with  howling  wretches?  Nothing  but 
the  low  tones,  the  subtle  value  of  colors,  but  that  was 
enough.  That  he  was  a  superb  draughtsman  who  could 
seize  accurately  the  critical  action,  and  that  he  was  a 
master  of  composition  adds  to  the  value  of  his  pictures, 
but  their  beauty  lies  chiefly  in  their  tonality. 

What  was  the  beauty  that  Vermeer  saw  in  his  quiet 
and  simple  interiors?    Nothing  but  the  soft  hght  filter- 

[10] 


THE  HISTORIC  PREJUDICE 

ing  through  casement  windows,  caressing  a  woman's  arm 
as  she  lifts  a  pearl  necklace  to  her  throat,  bathing  the 
walls  and  furniture  with  a  uniform  glow  that  makes  his 
pictures  seem,  in  spite  of  their  simple  subject  matter, 
dreams,  as  mysterious  as  Giorgione's. 

There  was  no  aspect  of  life  that  escaped  the  interest  of  ^ 
the  Dutch.  The  religious  life  was  as  vital  to  them  as  to 
any  race  of  painters.  Rembrandt  is  to  be  placed  with 
Raphael  and  Titian  as  one  of  the  greatest  religious 
painters  in  the  world  of  Christian  art.  They  pictured 
high  life  as  well  as  low;  the  cavaliers  and  satin-gowned 
ladies  interested  Terborch  and  Netscher;  the  bourgeoisie, 
Metsu  and  Jan  Steen;  the  peasants,  Brouwer  and  Os- 
tade.  Landscape  in  and  for  its  own  sake  was  first  ap- 
preciated by  the  Dutch;  heretofore  it  had  been  consid- 
ered merely  as  adjunct  to  a  figure  composition.  In 
Van  Goyen,  Ruisdael,  Hobbema  and  Cuyp  we  have  our 
first  real  landscape  art. 

But  whether  the  Dutch  painter  gave  his  chief  atten- 
tion to  religious  themes,  to  portraiture,  to  the  domestic 
interior,  or  to  the  peasant  revel,  he  was  always  interested 
in  still-life.  If  beauty  can  be  discovered  anywhere — and 
they  had  found  it  to  be  so  in  the  simplest  cottage,  and  in 
the  landscape,  new  ideas  at  that  time — ^why  not  in  a 
group  of  objects  on  a  table?  Those  copper  kettles  catch- 
ing the  light  from  the  window — ^was  there  not  a  richness 
and  glow  about  them?  Those  amber-colored  goblets  rest- 
ing on  the  red  damask  cover,  with  glistening  red  or  white 
wine  catching  the  sunbeams,  and  sparkling  like  jewels 
in  a  dark  chamber — what  a  color  scheme  was  that  I  And 
there  was  a  chance  for  arrangement  and  design  in  that 


POTS  AND  PANS 

group  of  Chinese  porcelain  on  the  shelf!  The  artist 
could  play  with  these  things  as  he  could  with  no  other 
kind  of  subject. 

Not  only  the  Dutch  artist  loved  still-life  paintings, 
but  the  Dutch  people  loved  them  as  well.  The  decora- 
tive value  of  still-life  was  well  understood;  the  value  of 
color  and  design  apart  from  subject  matter  was  in- 
stinctively appreciated. 

After  the  death  of  WiUiam  III  of  Orange,  the  po- 
litical prestige  of  Holland  waned,  while  at  the  same 
time,  imder  Louis  XIV  the  prestige  of  France  rose  to 
its  height.  This  political  ascendancy  of  France,  carry- 
ing with  it  national  prosperity,  was  natiu-ally  coincident 
with  French  influence.  To  Paris,  instead  of  to  Amster- 
dam the  eyes  of  the  art  world  looked,  and  for  two  hun- 
dred years  the  western  world  fell  under  the  influence  of 
French  classicism.  Dutch  art,  it  is  true,  entered  France, 
with  Watteau,  the  Van  Loos  and  others.^  The  Flemish 
Rubens  did  much  to  mould  French  taste,  and  Chardin, 
an  isolated  figure,  was  quite  Dutch  in  spirit;  yet  we 
must  say  that  Dutch  art  was  sleeping  in  the  eighteenth 
century. 

France  has  ever  since  been  justly  the  leader  in  art. 
But  this  has  implied  that  classic  ideas  of  form  and  design 

iVan  der  Meulen,  1643-1690. 

Largilli^re,  court  portraitist.  Born  in  Antwerp,  1650;  died  in  France, 
1748. 

J.  B.  van  Loo,  born  in  Aix,  1684. 

Carle  van  Loo,  born  in  Aix,  1705. 

Watteau,  born  in  Valenciennes  (then  Flanders),  1684;  died,  1731,  in 
France. 

Lancret,  also  born  in  Valenciennes,  1690;  died,  1743,  in  France. 

The  brothers  Le  Nain  were  French  by  birth,  Dutch  by  instinct. 

[12] 


THE  HISTORIC  PREJUDICE 

have  ruled.  It  became  established  that  certain  rules  of 
order,  of  symmetry,  and  spacing  must  be  followed  to 
cieate  a  decorative  work.  Chief  of  all  was  the  rigid  ad- 
herence to  classical  subject  matter.  Claude  Lorrain  in 
his  landscapes  with  classic  ruins,  Poussin  in  his  "Et 
Ego  in  Arcadia,"  Watteau  in  his  "Embarkation  for 
Cythera,"  Boucher  in  his  Cupids,  David  in  his  "Rape  of 
the  Sabines,"  Ingres  in  his  "La  Source,"  Puvis  de  Cha- 
vannes  in  his  historical-legendary  decorations — all  ad- 
hered in  one  way  or  another  to  classical  or  academic 
canons. 

We  would  have  expected  England,  who  was  the  true 
successor  of  the  Dutch — Enghsh  art  having  been  bom  in 
the  Low  Countries — to  have  preserved  the  Dutch  love 
for  still-life — ^to  have  appreciated  the  value  of  a  work  of 
art  outside  its  subject  matter.  But  English  art  was  too 
strongly  influenced  by  its  literature.  Art  in  England 
has  scarcely  ever  lost  a  Uterary  flavor.  English  literature 
has  been  overrulingly  great.  What  hope  there  may 
have  been  for  a  true  critical  appreciation  of  art  was  lost 
with  the  Pre-Raphaelites  who  turned  to  the  Italian 
primitives  for  inspiration.  Bume-Jones  was  a  medi- 
aevalist.  With  Watts,  Leighton,  Poynter  and  Alma- 
Tadema  EngKsh  art  went  right  over  to  pure  classicism. 

The  greatest  force  to  break  the  bonds  of  classicism  in 
decoration  was  the  Japanese  print.  At  the  end  of  the 
nineteenth  century  Europeans  for  the  first  time  learned 
that  decoration  could  be  informal,  could  defy  all  the 
canons  known  to  the  West — could  in  a  word  consist  of 
surprises,  and  still  be  decoration.    For  the  first  time  an 


[18] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

art,  untainted  by  Greek  ideas,  held  sway  over  the  imagin- 
ations of  men. 

The  enormous  importation  of  Chinese  and  Japanese 
vases,  bronzes,  and  all  sorts  of  objects  did  much  to  add 
to  the  interest  on  the  part  of  the  public  in  oriental  art. 
The  inherent  decorative  value  of  the  meanest  utensils  was 
brought  home  as  it  never  was  before.  And  Japanese  and 
Chinese  art  taught  the  western  world  once  again  what 
the  Dutch  had  once  taught,  but  which  had  been  forgot- 
ten, the  beauty  of  things  in  and  for  themselves,  the 
beauty  of  pure  arrangement  and  color  design,  regardless 
of  their  story,  power  to  uplift,  religious  association  or 
what  not. 

This  interest  in  things  in  and  for  themselves  is,  after 
all,  universal.  Nearly  everyone  has  the  instinct  for  col- 
lecting. It  is  inborn  in  the  child  who  stuffs  his  pockets 
full  of  nick-nacks.  Tom  Sawyer's  chief  triumph  was 
not  merely  that  he  had  made  an  easy  job  out  of  white- 
washing the  fence,  but  that  he  had  gained  by  his  bar- 
gaining, a  piece  of  blue  bottle  glass,  twelve  marbles,  a 
glass  stopper,  a  brass  door  knob,  a  key,  a  dog  collar  and 
six  pieces  of  orange  peel. 

The  difference  however,  between  an  artist  and  a  lay- 
man is  that  the  latter  is  content  with  the  mere  possession 
of  a  collection  while  the  former  glories  in  their  arrange- 
ment and  coloring.  Ming  vases,  golden  bowls,  rare 
porcelain,  old  armour,  tapestries,  are  of  no  greater 
beauty  to  one  who  has  the  artist's  soul,  whether  painter 
or  amateur,  than  pots  and  kettles  and  gaily  dyed  muslin, 
if  he  is  allowed  to  group  them  in  color  schemes  and  line 
arangements  against  the  background  that  he  finds  ap- 

[u] 


THE  HISTORIC  PREJUDICE 

propriate.  He  can  make  the  commonest,  cheapest  ob- 
jects— provided  they  are  simple  and  self-respecting,  not 
tawdry — rare  and  wonderful. 

It  has  been  said  that  beauty  can  be  discovered  any- 
where, but  we  can  go  a  step  further  than  this  and  say 
that  the  artist  can  create  beauty  anywhere.  Not  long 
ago  I  was  invited  to  a  mountain  cabin — a  rough  affair 
itself,  but  overlooking  a  magnificent  valley.  On  the 
crude  table  made  of  logs  and  boards,  the  hostess  had  laid 
a  cover  of  dyed  muslin  of  an  orange  color,  approaching 
old  rose.  On  this  was  a  bunch  of  orange  wood-lilies  in 
a  golden-hued  glazed  china  pitcher.  It  was  an  evident 
attempt  to  give  a  bright  note  to  the  sombre  wooden 
interior  of  the  bungalow,  so  I  commented  upon  its  suc- 
cess. "Yes,"  my  hostess  replied,  "I  remembered  I  had 
this  piece  of  cloth  when  I  saw  along  the  roadside  on  my 
way  up  here  these  lilies  growing.  So  I  knew  I  had  a 
splendid  color  scheme." 

To  group  objects,  to  arrange  them,  so  as  to  make 
patterns  of  color,  is  a  passion  with  the  artist.  Small 
wonder  it  is  then  that  we  find  nearly  all  painters — 
whether  their  main  work  be  portraiture  or  landscape — 
doing  still-life  in  their  odd  moments.  Here  they  are 
unfettered  in  their  desire  to  do  what  they  please  with 
things.  They  have  their  revenge,  in  a  way,  upon  nature. 
The  landscape  painter,  however  he  may  let  his  imagina- 
tion play  in  interpreting  the  face  of  nature,  is  ever  baf- 
fled. Nature  always  changes ;  not  two  hours  together  is 
she  the  same,  and  when  the  artist  sets  out  in  the  morning 
to  do  a  misty  day,  by  noon  it  is  clear  sunlight  that  trans- 
forms everything.     He  may  endeavor,  by  means  of  a 

[15] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

sketch,  to  record  his  impression,  or  his  emotions,  but 
then  he  is  forced  to  rely  upon  his  memory  for  his  finished 
studio  picture. 

The  portraitist  is  bound  with  closer  chains  than  the 
landscapist.  He  must  be  true  to  his  model,  and  even 
though  he  interpret  the  sitter's  character  without  neces- 
sarily adhering  to  a  literal  resemblanqe,  there  is  little 
play  for  fancy.  Unless  he  have  a  Spanish  dancer,  whom 
he  may  pose  as  he  pleases,  dress  as  he  pleases — as  far  as 
color  scheme  goes — and  play  with  in  a  sense,  and  then 
with  what  capricious  features — what  changes  of  mood — 
what  fleeting  expression  has  he  to  contend!  The  city 
magnate  had  better  be  allowed  to  flop  down  in  his  chair 
in  his  own  customary  way,  and  look  as  prosaic  as  is  nat- 
ural for  him,  otherwise  what  the  artist  paints  is  not  a  por- 
trait, but  an  imaginary  head. 

But  when  an  artist  sets  out  to  do  a  still-life,  here  he  is 
the  creator,  the  god  who  can  fashion  things  as  he  will. 
Out  of  his  household  goods — or  others! — ^he  can  select 
baskets,  fish,  vegetables,  china,  vases,  bric-a-brac,  fur- 
niture, antiques  of  any  description,  flowers,  what  he  will, 
as  few  or  as  many  as  he  pleases;  he  can  place  them  where 
he  will,  by  the  sunht  window,  or  in  the  shadowy  comer 
of  the  room,  and  there  they  have  to  stay.  No  passing 
clouds  will  alter  them,  no  new  day  will  destroy  their  first 
effect;  no  varying  moods  can  change  their  face.  Only 
a  few  still-life  subjects  are  deceptive  like  a  summer  day 
or  a  maiden's  face;  flowers  will  fade,  and  fish  will  decay; 
these  are  the  exceptions  we  must  have  as  with  any  rule. 

In  principle,  still-life  painting  is  no  different  from 
landscape,  portraiture  or  figure  painting.    As  an  art, 

[16] 


THE  HISTORIC  PREJUDICE 

each  aims,  or  should  aim,  at  interpretation,  or,  in  other 
words,  to  express  in  a  way  that  will  be  understood  by 
others,  the  vision  of  beauty  and  its  resultant  emotion  ex- 
perienced by  the  artist.  A  still-life  picture  must  first 
of  all  interpret  or  express  a  vision  or  emotion  of  the 
artist.  This  is  one  of  the  tests  by  which  we  can  judge 
a  good  still-life.  If  it  is  a  mere  prosaic  imitation  in  paint 
of  a  group  of  inanimate  objects,  there  is  no  excuse  for 
its  existence.  In  this  respect  a  still-life  demands  more 
than  any  other  kind  of  picture.  A  stupid  still-life  is 
worse  than  a  stupid  landscape,  or  a  stupid  portrait,  be- 
cause these  latter  command  an  undeserved  sympathy 
from  the  experience  of  the  beholder;  their  sentimental 
associations  may  render  them  tolerable.  But  a  still-life 
must  rely  upon  its  own  virtues  alone. 

As  Emil  Carlsen  said  to  the  writer,  "There  is  no  essen- 
tial difference  between  a  still-life  and  a  portrait.  Up 
to  a  certain  point  a  portrait  is  a  still-life.  Then  there 
must  be  something  added — personality,  hfe.  But  to  a 
still-life  there  must  be  also  a  something  added  to  make 
it  a  work  of  art — caU  it  what  you  will." 

We  must  seek  then,  first  of  all,  in  our  study  of  still- 
Hves,  that  inexplicable  something  which  reveals  the  pic- 
ture to  be  an  expression  of  a  vision.  How  the  artist  may 
express  this  may  be  by  color,  design,  i.  e.,  arrangement 
or  grouping,  so  we  must  look  for  these.  He  may  paint 
each  object  with  minute  care,  with  almost  microscopic 
detail,  as  did  Gerard  Dou,  or  he  may  paint  them  broadly, 
obscuring  details,  as  if  they  were  seen  behind  a  veil,  as 
sometimes  does  Carlsen;  the  method  would  depend  upon 
the  character  of  the  objects  painted  and  the  effect  de- 

[17] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

sired  by  the  artist.  But  what  is  essential  is  that  there 
be  an  interesting  choice  of  objects — things  that  make  a 
jolly  company — that  they  be  arranged  decoratively,  or 
with  design,  and  that  their  coloring  be  especially  rich, 
bright,  and  varied,  or  deep,  subtle,  and  mysterious  so  that 
it  expresses  in  color  a  powerful  emotion  on  the  part  of 
the  painter.  In  short,  besides  its  conception  as  a  vision 
or  an  emotional  experience,  a  still-life,  to  be  worth  while, 
must  be  technically  superior.  We  might  as  well  admit 
before  going  any  further  that  a  still-life,  more  than  any 
other  type  of  picture,  must  be  judged  from  the  point  of 
view  of  technique.  The  mere  beauty  of  its  paint,  the 
quality  of  its  surface  claims  our  attention.  We  might 
overlook  defects  of  this  kind  in  an  interior  by  Josef 
Israels  where  the  tender  sympathy  with  human  life  is 
the  chief  aim.  But  in  a  still-life  slovenly  technique  is  ^ 
unforgivable.  In  fact,  we  might  go  so  far  as  to  regard 
a  still-life  as  we  would  any  objH  d'art — a  bit  of  gold- 
smithy,  a  jewel,  a  Japanese  sword,  an  Indian  shawl, 
something  to  enjoy  for  the  beauty  of  its  workmanship. 

Granted  that  still-life  painting  is  a  favorite  hobby 
with  the  artist  the  philistine  may  still  be  reluctant  to  give 
this  branch  the  appreciation  that  he  would  to  other  pic- 
tures. 

Still-life  painting  has  never  been  given  its  due.  The 
religious  picture,  the  classical  allegory,  the  romantic 
or  historical  episode,  the  village  tale,  have  occupied  the 
attention  of  most  artists,  art  critics,  art  historians,  and 
the  art  loving  public.  They  have  taken  up  so  much  of 
the  space  in  our  art  galleries ;  they  have  intruded  them- 
selves so  conspicuously  upon  the  public  attention  for 

[18] 


THE  HISTORIC  PREJUDICE 

hundreds  of  years  that  more  humble  types  of  pictures 
have  been  forced  to  take  second  place. 

The  average  man,  therefore,  has  little  chance  for  ap- 
preciating still-life;  he  accepts,  unconsciously,  the  his- 
toric prejudice.  If  he  spontaneously  develops  a  love 
for  it,  he  is  gifted.  The  fairies  have  touched  his  eyes. 
He  has,  unawares,  discovered  that  without  being  a 
painter  himself,  he  has  the  artist's  vision. 


[19] 


CHAPTER  2 

FOBERUNNERS  OF  StILL-LIFE  PaINTING 


CHAPTER  2 

While  it  may  be  said  that  still-hfe  painting  originated 
with  the  Dutch,  it  would  not  be  true  to  say  no  other 
school  had  been  interested  in  it  before.  As  was  the  case 
with  landscape,  it  was  employed  in  connection  with  epi- 
sodic or  descriptive  pictures  by  the  Italians,  but  neither 
landscape  nor  groups  of  inanimate  objects  were  con- 
sidered fit  subjects  in  themselves  for  pictures.  Wher- 
ever intimate  scenes  of  domestic  life  were  portrayed,, 
wherever  a  painter  became  interested  in  describing  life 
about  him,  we  find  attention  to  still-life — even  among  the 
primitives.  Pietro  Lorenzetti  (c.  1305-c.  1348)  was  one 
of  the  first  Italians  and  possibly  the  first  among  sig- 
nificant masters,  to  show  any  interest  in  mere  objects. 
Byzantine  painting  had  been  symbolic,  hieratic,  aloof 
from  life.  But  in  the  Sienese  Pietro  Lorenzetti  we  find 
human  feeling,  naturalism,  and  even  a  touch  of  the 
genre.  Take,  for  example,  his  "Birth  of  the  Virgin,"  in 
the  Opera  del  Duomo,  Siena.  Here  we  find  an  intimate 
scene,  perhaps  descriptive  of  a  real  child-birth,  for  what 
we  see  is  a  Sienese  bed-chamber  of  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury.   Undoubtedly  the  artist  was  interested  in  the  fur- 

[28] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

niture  and  the  things  that  stood  about  the  room.  He 
has  drawn  our  attention  to  the  basin  in  which  the  infant 
is  about  to  be  washed,  the  pitcher  from  which  the  hot 
water  is  being  poured,  the  plaid  blanket  on  the  mother's 
bed  and  the  embroidered  towels;  but  these  things  are 
incidental  only;  the  artist's  main  concern  is  with  the 
religious  episode. 

The  monumental  painters  of  Italy,  inspired  by  Giotto, 
and  later  by  Masaccio,  were  too  much  occupied  with 
lofty  themes  to  stoop  to  depicting  the  commonplace  de- 
tails of  everyday  Hfe.  If  we  contrast  Lorenzetti's  "Birth 
of  the  Virgin"  with  Ghirlandaio's  version  of  the  same 
theme  in  the  church  of  Santa  Maria  Novella,  Florence, 
it  is  evident  there  is  no  naturahsm  about  the  latter.  Ghir- 
landaio  shows  us  an  evidently  unreal  room,  idealized  in 
a  sense,  for  it  appears  palatial,  but  as  a  bit  of  descrip- 
tion, impossible.  It  reminds  one  of  stage  scenery;  it  is 
unliveabje.  Only  with  painters  who  have  descriptive  or 
naturahstic  tendencies  do  we  find  still-life  introduced 
into  their  pictures. 

Another  Italian  painting  which  comes  to  mind  in  this 
connection  is  also  a  much  later  one  than  Lorenzetti's.  I 
refer  to  Antonello  da  Messina's  "St.  Jerome  in  his 
Study"  now  in  the  National  Gallery.  (Antonello  c. 
1430-c.  1479.)  This  picture  shows  much  Flemish  in- 
fluence in  its  color  and  chiaroscuro  as  well  as  in  its  at- 
tention to  details  of  furnishing.  Whether  the  painter 
had  actually  been  to  Flanders  or  not,  and  come  in  touch 
with  the  Van  Eyck  or  Van  der  Weyden  school,  or 
whether  his  Flemish  traits  are  the  result  of  his  training 
in  Naples,  the  Flemish  influence  is  strong,  especially  in 

[24] 


FORERUNNERS  OF  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

this  work,  painted  about  1473/  The  saint,  a  small 
figure,  sits  in  a  large  Gothic  vaulted  room.  About  him 
are  his  books  and  many  other  articles.  The  importance 
of  these  details  makes  the  picture  less  a  portrait  of  a 
saint  than  an  interior  of  a  studio. 

This  subject,  so  frequent  in  art,  naturally  lends  itself 
to  details  of  still-life.  Carpaccio  (active  1478-1522)  also 
painted  it.  He  may  have  been  induced  to  represent  it 
in  the  descriptive  way  in  which  he  did  by  a  knowledge 
of  Antonello's  work,  for  we  know  the  latter  painter 
exerted  much  influence  in  Venice.  However  that  may 
be,  Carpaccio  was  fond  of  describing  religious  or  legen- 
dary themes  in  a  natural  Venetian  setting.  His  picture 
of  St.  Jerome  in  his  study,  in  the  Scuola  degli  Schiavoni 
shows  us  the  saint  in  his  well-equipped  oratory.  What 
a  small  part  of  the  picture  is  devoted  to  the  saint  him- 
self I  He  does  not  concern  us  so  much  as  his  surround- 
ings. The  table,  bracketed  to  the  wall  on  one  side  is  a 
curiosity  in  itself.  We  stop  to  study  its  strange  con- 
struction. On  it  is  a  collection  of  heterogeneous  articles, 
books,  inkstands  and  shells.  At  the  foot  of  the  table, 
on  the  dais,  rest  other  books,  musical  scores  (they  can  be 
read,  so  minute  is  the  painting)  and  loose  paper. 
Around  the  wall  are  mouldings,  and  these  are  filled  with 
objects — celestial  spheres,  statuettes,  vases — a  collection 
to  be  envied.  Another  object  of  peculiar  interest  is  the 
elbow  chair  with  its  device  for  holding  a  canopy  over  it 
for  state  occasions,  while  attached  to  it  is  a  reading 
stand.  In  fact,  the  room  with  its  closet  adjoining, 
opened  for  our  inspection,  is  so  full  of  attractive  inter- 

1  Venturi,  VII,  4.  p.  14. 

[25] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

est  that  it  would  take  several  pages  to  describe  it  com- 
pletely. 

Equally  descriptivej  is  Carpaccio's  "Dream  of  St. 
Ursula"  painted  for  the  Scuola  di  Sant  Orsola  in  Venice 
(Fig.  1).  The  picture  has  been  described,  with  fanciful 
diversions  by  Ruskin  in  his  "Fors  Clavigera"  and  better 
by  Ludwig  and  Molmenti  in  their  monumental  work 
on  Carpaccio.  This  is  again  a  bedroom  interior,  pos- 
sibly picturing  the  chamber  of  a  wealthy  Venetian  lady 
of  the  Quatrocento.  It  is  essentially  a  pure  interior 
— as  near  the  spirit  of  Pieter  de  Hooch  as  would  be 
possible  in  Italy — for  the  little  figure  in  the  bed,  asleep, 
with  the  covers  closely  drawn  about  her,  only  her  head 
with  one  hand  tucked  under  it  appearing,  contributes 
to  rather  than  detracts  from  the  still  spaciousness  of 
the  room;  the  apparition  stands  in  the  doorway.  There- 
fore the  artist  has  interested  himself  chiefly  in  inanimate 
things — the  sombreness  and  simplicity  of  the  room, 
with  its  few  elegant  and  tasteful  furnishings,  the  bed 
with  its  high  posts  and  canopy,  the  covers,  the  pillow, 
the  elbow  chair,  the  bracket  with  candlestick,  the  win- 
dow sill  with  roses  and  plants,  the  cupboard  with  books 
and  the  table — all  these  are  rendered  with  a  truthfulness 
to  detail,  and  a  love  for  the  things  themselves  that  shows 
the  spirit  of  a  still-life  painter. 

This,  after  all,  is  not  pure  still-life  painting.  Yet  if 
we  look  further  among  the  Italian  painters  we  find  still 
less  attention  to  still-life  than  with  Antonello  who  was 
partly  Flemish,  or  with  Carpaccio.  Perhaps  one  ques- 
tions whether  Veronese  was  not  interested  in  a  sUght 
degree,  in  still-Hfe,  for  we  know  of  his  passion  for  gor- 

[26] 


FORERUNNERS  OF  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

geous  apparel,  velvets,  satins,  rich  stuffs,  rugs,  golden 
goblets,  costly  table  furnishings,  and  all  that  pertained 
to  a  lordly  establishment,  and  which  he  loved  to  paint 
in  his  great  banquet  scenes,  "The  Marriage  at  Cana"  in 
the  Louvre,  or  "The  Feast  in  the  House  of  Levi"  in 
the  Venice  Academy.  But  these  things  scintillate  like 
jewels  in  a  great  setting.  One  does  not  think  about  them 
in  the  midst  of  the  pageant  as  one  does  in  Carpaccio's 
"'St.  Jerome." 

With  Titian  we  occasionally  find  associated  with  a 
portrait,  an  interesting  attention  to  realism  in  details. 
His  "Man  with  the  Glove"  in  the  Louvre  is  as  good  an 
illustration  as  any.  Moroni's  "Portrait  of  a  Tailor"  in 
the  National  Gallery,  London,  with  its  prominent  shears, 
is  another.  But  not  one  of  these  Venetian  portraits 
shows  as  much  still-life  detail  as  almost  any  portrait  by 
Holbein. 

The  first  Italian  painter  to  do  a  real  still-life  is  Jacopo 
de'Barbari  (1450-c.  1516).  Barbari  was  in  Niirnberg 
as  early  as  1500  where  he  was  an  influence  upon  Albert 
Diirer.  Until  1507  he  worked  for  the  Counts  of  Bur- 
gundy, and  in  1510  he  was  in  the  employ  of  the  Arch- 
duchess Margaret.  His  still-life  painting  was  the  result 
of  his  northern  influence  and  is  entirely  Flemish  in  tech- 
nique. Hence  he  is  hardly  to  be  reckoned  among  Italian 
painters ;  he  was  out  of  the  main  current  of  Italian  ideas, 
and  his  talent  was  insignificant.  One  of  his  pictures, 
formerly  in  the  Augsburg  picture  gallery,  now  in 
Mimich,  was  painted  in  1504  (Fig.  2).  It  represents  a 
strange  combination.  Hanging  from  a  hook  on  a  wall, 
-and  held  together  by  a  violin  bow,  are  a  pair  of  gauntlets 

[27] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

and  a  partridge.  This  is  one  of  the  earhest  still-life 
pictures  extant.  That  there  are  two  other  still-lives  by 
him,  one  in  Regensburg  and  one  in  the  Layard  Collec- 
tion, Venice,  indicates  his  proclivity  for  this  type  of 
picture. 

Later  in  the  sixteenth  century  we  find  the  influence 
of  the  north  affecting  the  art  of  Italy  to  a  greater  extent 
than  before.  With  Caravaggio  (Michelangelo  Amer- 
ighi,  1569-1609)  and  the  Italian  naturalists,  we  find  a 
growing  interest  in  still-life.  A  picture  of  Caravaggio's 
in  the  Hermitage  at  Petrograd  (until  1914)  called  "The 
Lute  Player,"  is  chiefly  attractive  for  its  still-life  details. 
The  figure  merits  no  attention,  but  the  charmingly 
conscientious  way  in  which  the  violin  and  the  bow,  the 
open  page  of  music,  the  vase  of  flowers  and  the  fruit,  are 
done,  indicates  that  the  artist  was  more  concerned  with 
these  things,  as  are  we,  than  in  the  subject.  Moreover 
these  objects  are  grouped  so  that  they  make  practically 
a  complete  picture  in  themselves. 

Caravaggio  gained  his  reputation  early  in  life  as  a 
painter  of  fruit  and  flowers.  His  adherence  to  realistic 
detail,  his  lack  of  idealism,  and  love  for  genre  caused 
him  to  be  regarded  by  the  Italians  with  the  greatest  con- 
tempt— a  proof  that  his  art  was  not  Italian.  Never- 
theless he  was  imitated  by  his  Italian  contemporaries, 
and  the  grandiose  Annibale  Caracci  stooped  to  paint  a 
"Bean  Eater"^  in  the  spirit  of  Ostade.  Akin  as  he  was 
to  the  north,  Caravaggio  exerted  considerable  influence 
on  Lastman,  and  through  the  latter,  on  Rembrandt. 

Capuccino  (Bernardo  Strozzi  1581-1644)  was  purely 

2  Now  in  the  Colonna  Gallery,  Rome. 

[28] 


FORERUNNERS  OF  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

Dutch  in  many  of  his  genre  pictures.  The  one  entitled 
"The  Cook"  in  the  Brignole-Sale  collection,  Genoa,  is 
strongly  reminiscent  of  Pieter  Aertz.  Here  we  have  a 
kitchen  interior,  with  a  caldron,  boiling  over  an  open 
fire.  The  cook  is  consciously  busy  plucking  a  goose, 
while  about  her  are  hanging,  or  lying  over  the  table,  on 
the  floor  and  on  the  hearth,  turkeys,  ducks  and  other 
game.  Conspicuous  in  the  foreground  is  an  enormous 
pitcher.  The  painting  is  obviously  a  study  of  game, 
much  as  a  Dutchman  would  have  done  it. 

One  other  late  Itahan  painter  was  influenced  by  the 
Dutch  school,  Michelangelo  Cerquozzi  (1602-1660).  He 
was  chiefly  famous,  in  his  lifetime,  for  battle  scenes,  but 
he  also  painted  realistic  genre  subjects.  Late  in  his 
career  he  took  to  painting  fruit  and  flower  pictures,  and 
today  these  are  the  works  for  which  he  is  most  highly 
esteemed. 

The  brevity  of  this  list  is  a  clear  indication  that  still- 
life  painting  was  not  appreciated  in  Italy.  In  only  one 
field  of  art,  a  minor  one,  were  still-life  subjects  ever 
popular.  The  decoration  of  cabinets,  pulpits,  cassone 
or  marriage  chests  by  means  of  intarsia,  or  wood  mosaic, 
began  as  early  as  the  fifteenth  century.  At  first  the 
designs  were  elaborate,  with  landscapes  and  figures,  but 
later  it  became  the  style,  particularly  for  cabinets,  to 
represent  shelves  filled  with  articles  of  every  kind — 
books,  vases  of  flowers,  utensils,  etc.  It  was  purely  a 
decorative  craft,  yet  so  accomplished  that  the  Italian 
intarsia  work  became  famous  throughout  Europe. 

We  have  wandered  far  from  the  representative  artists 
of  the  Italian  school,  when  Italian  painting  was  at  its 

[29] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

height,  and  because  the  later  men  were  beyond  doubt  re- 
flections of  the  north — they  come  too  late  to  have  af- 
fected the  art  we  are  studying — they  cannot  be  counted 
in  the  development  of  still-life  painting. 

Hence  it  is  to  the  north  we  must  look  for  the  source  of 
this  development.  We  find  it  with  the  earliest  painters 
of  Flanders,  Jan  van  Eyck  and  Robert  C  ampin,  con- 
temporaries. We  do  not  know  the  date  of  the  birth  of 
the  former,  but  Jan  van  Eyck  was  working  on  the  Ghent 
altarpiece  from  1426  to  1432,  a  recognized  master;  it 
is  beheved  he  was  born  between  1380  and  1390.  Robert 
Campin  settled  in  Toumai  about  1406,  at  the  age  of 
twenty-eight,  hence  he  must  have  been  bom  about  1378. 
We  cannot  determine  which  was  the  first  to  show  an  in- 
terest in  still-life,  but  the  point  is  of  little  moment,  as 
undoubtedly  interest  in  genre,  in  the  intimacies  of  do- 
mestic life,  was  an  inheritance  of  mediaeval  art  in  the 
Low  Countries.  The  illustrated  calendars  with  the  sea- 
sons of  the  year,  the  breviaries  and  Books  of  Hours 
convince  us  of  this. 

The  picture  of  Jan  van  Eyck  which  we  may  take  as 
an  example  is  his  so-called  Amolfini  panel  in  the  Na- 
tional Gallery  (Fig  3).  Here  we  have  a  Flemish  in- 
terior, with  every  minute  detail.  Jan  Amolfini — it  may 
be  Jan  van  Eyck  himself  as  Rooses  suggests — stands  in 
the  center  of  the  room  holding  his  bride  by  the  hand, 
with  just  pride  and  imconscious  dignity  proclaiming  her 
condition  as  an  expectant  mother.  But  in  spite  of  the 
care  with  which  every  detail  of  their  apparel  is  rendered 
— the  artist's  evident  love  for  the  texture  of  velvet  and 
fur  is  noticeable — ^the  eye  wanders  from  these.    The  sur- 

[30] 


FORERUNNERS  OF  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

poundings  of  the  figures  hold  our  attention  longest,  the 
bed,  its  curtains,  the  casement  window,  the  mirror  on  the 
wall  with  its  reflections,  the  chandelier,  the  slippers  on 
the  floor,  the  little  spaniel — these  things  are  an  im- 
portant part  of  the  picture. 

Jan  van  Eyck,  however,  was  not  the  genre  painter 
that  we  find  in  the  master  of  Tournai.  He  represents 
the  hieratic  in  primitive  Flemish  painting.  True,  in 
portraiture  he  was  more  of  a  realist,  and  was  not  the 
mystic  that  his  brother  Hubert  seems  to  have  been,  but 
his  religious  pictures  breathe  an  aristocratic  aloofness 
from  life;  his  madonnas  are  princesses  of  heaven,  with 
diadems,  thrones,  and  worshipping  attendants.  Thej' 
are  not  domestic,  nor  bourgeois,  nor  are  they  surrounded 
with  the  things  of  real  life.  Robert  Campin's  madonnas 
are  on  the  other  hand  comfortable  wives  of  city  magis- 
trates. They  are  mothers — truly  Flemish.  Campin 
leads  the  Tournai  tradition,  followed  by  Roger  van  der 
Weyden,  Bouts  and  van  der  Goes,  in  giving  the  thor- 
oughly national  stamp  to  Flemish  art.  He  ushers  hi 
the  genre  treatment  of  religious  themes.  As  one  of  the 
greatest  of  the  primitives  Robert  Campin  deserves  more 
attention  than  he  has  yet  received ;  his  artistic  personality 
must  have  exerted  a  tremendous  influence  in  shaping  the 
development  of  northern  painting. 

Let  us  take  his  representative  "Madonna  of  the 
Mousetrap" — the  famous  Merode  altarpiece  in  Brus- 
sels. The  center  panel  pictures  the  Annunciation. 
Mary  is  a  splendid  housewife.  Her  house  has  the  pecu- 
liarly neat  and  clean  appearance  we  would  expect.  A 
rather  large  and  heavy  woman,  she  is  seated  comfortably 

[31] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

on  a  stool  at  the  foot  of  a  carved  wooden  bench,  in  front 
of  a  fireplace.  She  is  absorbed  in  reading  a  book  when 
the  angel  appears.  But  she  takes  absolutely  no  notice 
of  him.  Practically  minded,  she  has,  apparently,  no 
use  for  supernatural  visitors.  We  are  not  interested, 
any  more  than  she,  in  this  part  of  the  picture.  Far  more 
curious  is  the  room  and  its  details — the  beamed  ceiling, 
the  casement  window,  the  sculptured  alcove,  the  fireplace 
with  its  screen  and  andirons,  the  carved  seat,  the  table 
with  its  vase  of  flowers  and  its  open  book.  AU  these 
things  are  arranged  in  an  admirable  way,  although  of 
course  not  grouped  by  themselves.  The  shutters  of  the 
triptych  increase  the  genre  character  of  the  altarpiece. 
On  one  side  is  Joseph  in  his  shop,  fashioning  a  mouse- 
trap. On  his  table  are  all  his  tools.  In  the  window,  in 
view  of  the  street,  is  a  second  mousetrap,  completed, 
while  the  interior  of  the  shop  is  as  minutely  rendered; 
even  the  wood  shavings  and  the  bits  of  wire  can  be  seen. 
Surely  this  is  prophetic  of  what  we  may  expect  in  the 
way  of  still-life  painting  later  on  in  the  Low  Countries  I 
The  other  shutter  pictures  the  donors  of  the  triptych,  in 
an  interior  no  less  characteristic  of  the  artist. 

This  masterpiece,  so  thoroughly  original,  so  absolutely 
Flemish  in  character,  gives  Campin  a  unique  place 
among  the  primitives.  Only  recently  identified,  he  has 
not  yet  been  assigned  his  true  place  in  the  history  of  art. 
Although  endowed  with  nothing  like  the  imagination  of 
the  van  Eycks,  he  must  nevertheless  rank  with  them  as 
one  of  the  forces  which  produced  and  gave  distinct  char- 
acter to  Flemish  art. 

Other  pictures  attributed  to  him,  the  van  Werle  altar- 

[82] 


FORERUNNERS  OF  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

piece  in  the  Prado,  Madrid,  in  particular,  show  a  similar 
feeling  for  the  genre  with  still-life  that  we  found  in  the 
*'Madonna  of  the  Mousetrap."  But  for  all  that  we  do 
not  find  in  Campin  a  painter  of  pure  still-life. 

Petrus  Christus,  a  pupil  of  the  van  Eycks,  marks 
another  step  in  the  development  that  gradually  leads  to 
absolute  still-life  painting.  His  "Legend  of  St. 
Eligious"  in  a  private  collection  in  America^  i^^S-  '*)> 
represents  his  interest  in  objects  of  goldsmith  art.  The 
saint,  who  is  a  goldsmith,  is  seated  before  his  bench. 
There  are  so  many  things  about  him  that  we  instinct- 
ively turn  from  the  story  to  examine  the  objects  in 
the  room.  Undoubtedly  the  artist  was  as  much  en- 
gaged with  these  as  with  the  figures.  In  front  of  him 
are  his  scales,  weights,  and  other  things,  among  them 
noticeably  one  of  those  circular  convex  mirrors,  popular 
with  the  van  Eyck  as  well  as  with  the  Campin  studio. 
But  behind  the  Saint  is  a  regular  collection  of  curiosi- 
ties. On  a  shelf  are  vases  and  flasks,  while  hanging 
below  are  necklaces,  pendants,  purses  and  the  stock  in 
trade  of  the  goldsmith. 

After  Petrus  we  will  have  to  wait  for  Quentin  Matsys 
for  any  further  development  in  still-hfe.  Roger  van 
der  Weyden,  a  great  painter  who  gave  minute  attention 
to  detail,  merely  carried  on  the  Campin  tradition  as  far 
as  still-life  painting  is  concerned.  Memhng,  his  suc- 
cessor, was  a  reaction  to  Gothic  mysticism,  while  Gerard 
David  and  Hugo  van  der  Goes  stuck  to  the  episodes  they 
had  to  tell.  Dirk  Bouts,  from  Holland,  loved  to  paint 
repasts.     His  "Last  Supper"  in  Louvain,  his  "Pass- 

3  Formerly  in  the  Oppenheim  collection — Paris. 

[S3] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

over"  in  Munich,  or  his  "Christ  in  the  House  of  Simon 
the  Pharisee"  in  Berhn,  gave  him  splendid  opportunities 
for  table  settings,  but  he  woefully  failed  in  his  group- 
ings. All  we  find  in  them  is  a  continued  interest  in 
objects,  but  neither  he  nor  any  of  the  other  painters  of 
his  school  was  able  to  divorce  still-life  from  the  religious 
episode. 

Quentin  Matsys  (about  1466-1530)  was  not  able  to  do 
so  either,  but  he  was  a  pure  genre  painter  in  certain 
pictures,  and  in  these  he  gave  his  still-life  objects  a  pre- 
dominant place.  Matsys'  "Banker  and  his  Wife"  in  the 
Louvre  (Fig.  5)  goes  a  step  further  than  Petrus  Chris- 
tus'  "St.  Eligius."  Our  first  interest,  it  is  true,  is  with  the 
figures — the  intentness  with  which  the  banker  weighs 
out  his  money  and  with  which  his  wife  watches  him;  but 
we  linger  longer  over  the  accoutrements  of  the  room.  On 
the  table — the  obvious  base  for  still-life — are  scattered 
various  articles,  the  familiar  reflecting  mirror,  an  open 
book,  (etc.,  but  at  the  back  are  two  shelves  of  well 
grouped  objects  which  forecast  the  arrangements  of 
Teniers  the  younger.  Well  lighted,  holding  their  place 
in  the  shadow,  they  are  more  naturally  painted  than  any 
grouping  of  objects  we  have  yet  discovered  in  our 
search.  In  the  Ryks  Museum,  Amsterdam,  there  is  a 
still-hf e  painting  which  is  attributed  by  Dr.  Max  Fried- 
lander  to  Quentin  Matsys.  It  is  undoubtedly  of  the 
Flemish  school  in  the  time  of  Quentin  Matsys.  In  the 
shape  of  a  lunette,  perhaps  a  fragment  of  a  larger  pic- 
ture, it  is  nevertheless  an  independent  composition.  On 
a  shelf  are  a  number  of  books ;  this  is  all  there  is  to  the 
picture,  but  the  coloring  in  golden  browns,  with  the 

[34] 


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FORERUNNERS  OF  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

books  of  various  hues  of  yellow  and  rose,  deeply  lumin- 
ous, shows  that  in  the  mind  of  the  master  no  objects 
were  too  mean  for  his  attention. 

In  the  Mauritzhuis,  The  Hague,  there  is  another  small 
primitive  still-life,  likewise  attributed  to  the  Flemish 
school  of  this  period.  Entitled  "Vanitas,"  it  represents 
a  human  skull  on  a  window  ledge.  Behind,  out  of  the 
window,  there  is  a  brownish  landscape  with  ruins;  on 
a  carton,  below  the  skull,  is  the  inscription  "Memento 
Mori."  This  is  one  of  the  earliest  still-lives  extant  with 
the  familiar  skull.  Later,  as  we  shall  see,  the  Spanish 
still-life  painters  were  fond  of  such  subjects. 

Matsys,  with  his  introduction  of  realistic  genre  into 
art,  purely  for  the  sake  of  picturing  contemporary  life, 
paves  the  way  for  a  host  of  successors.  Martin,  or 
Marinus  van  Roymerswael,  called  also  the  Zeelander 
(c.  1497-c.  1567)  showed  an  increasing  interest  in  still- 
life  groupings.  One  of  his  several  "Money  Changers," 
that  in  the  National  Gallery,  London,  shows  us  two  old 
men,  with  avaricious,  miserly  faces,  seated  before  a  table 
on  which  are  their  account  books  and  piles  of  money. 
These  latter,  we  notice,  are  especially  well  lighted;  but 
behind,  on  a  chest,  are  a  crowd  of  objects,  boxes,  papers, 
books,  candlesticks  and  vases.  Another  picture  of  van 
Roymerswael's  is  a  "St.  Jerome"  in  Madrid.  Here  the 
old  man  is  packed  in,  literally  wedged,  among  his  fur- 
nishings, his  books  and  tables.  The  saint  himself  points 
out  to  us  the  skull  upon  which  he  is  supposed  to  medi- 
tate. Here  we  have  the  beginning  of  those  increasingly 
popular  groupings — a  table  with  skull,  books  and  can- 
dlestick— the  scholar's  study-table. 

[S5] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

Whenever  one  sees  still-lives  with  these  objects,  one 
thinks  of  St.  Jerome,  who  during  the  process  of  still- 
life  development,  was  weeded  out  of  his  environment. 

Jan  Sanders  van  Hemissen  (about  1504-1555) 
was  a  follower  of  van  Roymerswael.  While  the  last 
named  was  born  in  the  north,  in  what  is  now  the  Nether- 
lands, van  Hemissen,  born  near  Antwerp,  died  in  Haar- 
lem. From  this  time  on  most  of  the  painters  who  intro- 
duce still-life  into  their  pictures  belong  to  Holland.  Van 
Hemissen's  contribution  may  be  understood  from  his 
"CalUng  of  St.  Matthew"  in  Munich.  The  scene  takes 
place  in  the  interior  of  a  Dutch  or  Flemish  room.  Ob- 
viously the  subject  gave  the  painter  a  chance  to  do  an- 
other variant  of  Roymerswael's  "Money  Changers." 
Consequently  we  see  here  a  tableful  of  money,  with  pens, 
inkstand  and  the  various  articles  pertaining  to  the  busi- 
ness.   Behind  on  the  wall  are  again  shelves  of  books. 

But  with  Pieter  Aertz  a  tremendous  jump  is  made. 
He  goes  right  after  still-life,  down  to  the  kitchen  or 
into  the  dining  room ;  while  he  introduces  a  figure  by  way 
of  excuse,  it  is  evident  that  with  him  the  objects  of 
interest  are  not  mere  adjuncts  to  a  figure  subject. 

Pieter  Aertz  or  Lange  Pier  (1507  or  1508-1575)  was 
born  in  Amsterdam.  He  worked  as  a  young  man  from 
1526  to  1536  in  Antwerp  which  was  then  the  metropolis 
of  art,  but  he  must  be  considered  a  Dutchman  and  one  of 
the  most  influential  in  directing  Dutch  art  on  the  current 
which  it  followed.  His  two  "Cooks"  in  Brussels  are  his 
most  characteristic  works.  In  each  of  these  we  have  a 
robust  female,  busy  with  her  work.  In  one  case  she  has 
a  cabbage  under  her  arm,  in  another,  she  holds  a  spit 

[86] 


FORERUNNERS  OF  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

with  chickens  ready  for  their  roasting.  On  a  table  in 
the  latter  picture  lie  carrots  and  a  basket  full  of  vege- 
tables, while  behind  on  another  table  is  an  earthen  bowl. 
In  these  we  have  a  new  kind  of  still-life,  thoroughly- 
original. 

In  his  "Kitchen,"  in  Copenhagen,  Pieter  Aertz  goes 
further.  The  figures  now  are  placed  in  the  background. 
They  are  pure  pretexts  for  a  still-life  picture.  It  is  as 
if  the  painter  felt  that  a  picture  of  meat  and  vegetables 
was  not  sufficient  without  people  cooking  or  eating  them. 
In  the  foreground  is  a  huge  table,  filled  with  every  article 
of  food  possible  to  include  in  one  composition,  game, 
fowl,  hams,  meats,  fish,  vegetables  and  fruits.  It  is  not 
difficult  for  us  to  understand  the  attraction  of  such  sub- 
jects for  the  painter.  The  combination  of  freshly  sliced 
hams,  cabbages,  cucimibers  and  cheese  offers  a  richness 
of  coloring  every  painter  would  delight  in.  A  picture 
like  this,  however,  like  the  kitchen  and  market  scenes,  is 
open  to  the  criticism  of  being  coarse,  or  at  least  de  mau- 
vais  gout.  The  art  of  Jacob  Jordaens  would  demand  the 
same  criticism,  but  this  raises  a  point  of  aesthetics  which 
I  prefer  to  leave  for  a  later  chapter.  These  pictures  of 
Pieter  Aertz  are  thoroughly  Dutch  versions  of  the  abun- 
danzia  theme.  He  was  a  painter  of  the  people  and  of 
their  interests;  his  best  known  work,  "The  Egg  Dance," 
in  Amsterdam,  illustrates  the  joyful  side  of  peasant 
life,  their  feasting  and  their  revels.  To  paint  their 
kitchens  and  market  stalls  is  but  to  go  one  step  further. 

Joachim  de  Beukelaer,  Aertz'  pupil  (1533?-1573) 
(Fig.  6),  was  unable  to  keep  the  kitchen  out  of  his  re- 
ligious themes.  Or  did  he  choose  religious  subjects  which 

[37] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

obviously  gave  him  the  chance  to  bring  the  kitchen  in? 
Probably  the  latter  is  true.  Taking  a  hint  from  Aertz' 
"Jesus  with  Martha  and  Mary,"  where  Martha  comes 
in  with  a  basket  full  of  game — why  so  many  rabbits  and 
fowl  for  one  repast,  we  ask — de  Beukelaer  painted  a 
"Prodigal  Son,"*  where  the  feast  is  being  prepared. 
This  is  nothing  but  the  interior  of  a  prosperous  Flemish 
household,  one  of  those  seemingly  impossible  interiors 
where  reception  hall,  dining  room,  pantry  and  kitchen 
are  combined.  On  one  side  we  see  the  cook  with  her 
roast  and  spit,  on  the  other  the  mistress,  elegantly  at- 
tired, busy  preparing  other  dishes  for  the  feast. 

In  his  "Game  Dealer"  in  Vienna,  de  Beukelaer  casts 
pretexts  to  the  winds  and  deliberately  paints  for  its  own 
sake  what  interested  him  most — game  and  food. 

Pieter  Breughel  (1535-1569)  is  the  most  famous  of 
the  Dutch  and  Flemish  painters  of  the  people  with  their 
faults  and  foibles.  He  was  beyond  all  else  a  painter  of 
humanity;  what  interest  he  had  in  still-life  was  subsid- 
iary to  his  theme,  but  in  several  of  his  pictures  he  intro- 
duced some  definite  still-hfe  groups.  His  "Village 
Wedding"  in  the  Vienna  Imperial  Museum  may  be 
taken  as  an  example.  The  picture  is  crowded  with  feast- 
ers,  the  bagpipes  giving  the  scene  a  truly  festive  air.  But 
all  these  are  means  which  the  painter  used  to  fill  his  can- 
vas with  varied,  luxuriant  and  glaring  color,  for  these 
Flemish  festive  scenes  are  mere  pretexts  for  splendid 
coloring;  not  least  conspicuous  in  the  "Flemish  Wed- 
ding" are  the  yellow  omelettes.    But  food  is  not  the  only 

4  In  Antwerp.    Beukelaer  likewise  did  a  "Jesus  with  Martha  and  Mary"  in 
Aertz'    style.    This  picture  is  in  Amsterdam. 

[38] 


FORERUNNERS  OF  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

kind  of  still-life  we  find  in  this  picture.  In  the  lower 
left  hand  corner  is  a  table,  off  by  itself,  covered  with 
bottles  and  jugs.  One  might  call  it  an  independent 
group,  such  as  Teniers  loved  to  paint  a  half  century 
later. 

The  Flemish  school,  finally  influenced  so  strongly, 
and  to  its  detriment,  by  the  late  Italian,  did  not  suc- 
ceed in  freeing  still-life  entirely  from  its  environment. 
This  was  left  to  the  Dutch.  The  way  was  paved  by 
Pieter  Aertz  who  came  the  nearest  to  painting  pure 
still-life  of  any  of  the  primitives,  unless,  indeed,  Quen- 
tin  Matsys  painted  them,  so  that  later  when  Dutch  na- 
tionality and  Dutch  independence  was  able  to  express 
itself,  there  was  no  difficulty  in  breaking  the  fetters. 
But  before  coming  to  the  Dutch  and  later  Flemish 
painters,  we  must  notice  what  development  was  going 
on  in  Germany. 

As  has  been  said,  Jacopo  de'Barbari  was  the  first 
Italian  to  paint  a  pure  still-life,  and  his  picture  in  Augs- 
burg (1504)  appears  to  be  one  of  the  earliest  of  its  kind 
in  any  school  or  country.  This  picture  was  painted 
under  German  or  Flemish  influence.  But  what  German 
still-Hfe  painting  preceded  him?  Martin  Schongauer 
was  the  first  great  name  in  German  art;  his  name  is 
linked  with  Michael  Wohlgemuth's  and  Barbari's  as  an 
influence  upon  Albert  Diirer. 

A  mere  glance  at  some  of  Schongauer's  pictures  re- 
veals that  he  belonged  to  the  Campin-van  der  Weyden 
succession.  Further  analysis  of  his  art  only  deepens  this 
conviction.  His  "Holy  Family"  in  Vienna  is  so  much 
like  a  Campin  or  early  van  der  Weyden  in  spirit  and 

[39] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

treatment  as  to  seem  like  a  Toumai  school  piece.  In 
this  picture,  in  one  corner,  is  a  basket  of  grapes,  so  con- 
scientiously, so  exquisitely  done,  that  we  feel  at  once 
the  artist's  interest  in  details  of  still-life.  It  is  not  put 
in  as  a  necessary  part  of  the  picture,  but  for  its  own 
sake. 

Primitive  German  painting  being  a  provincial  reflec- 
tion of  the  Flemish  school,  we  would  expect  to  find  genre 
and  still-life  elements  entering  into  German  rehgious 
pictures  and  portraits  as  it  did  in  Flanders. 

Albert  Diirer  (1471-1528)  was  a  genius  who  gave 
German  art  an  original  stamp.  As  an  engraver  he  in- 
terests us  most. 

The  art  of  engraving,  not  lending  itself  to  mohu- 
mentality  so  readily  as  that  of  painting,  is  able  to  ex- 
press itself  better  in  subjects  of  a  trivial  nature,  the 
perfection  of  the  execution  being  the  chief  aim  of  the 
artist.  Engraving,  too,  is  a  process  by  which  many 
copies  of  a  work  can  be  made,  and  used  for  illustrations 
of  books.  Niimberg,  where  Diirer  worked,  was  a  great 
centre  for  engraving.  Hence  Diirer  was  able  to  turn  to 
such  subjects  as  coats-of-arms,  book  plates,  and  line 
drawings  of  all  sorts,  such  as  studies  of  rabbits,  praying 
hands,  etc.  These  engravings  he  made  into  masterpieces 
by  their  decorative  design,  superb  draughtsmanship, 
richness  in  light  and  shade  and  dehcate  execution. 

Diirer's  engravings  which  show  the  importance  he  at- 
tached to  still-life  are:  "St.  Jerome  in  his  Study"  (Fig. 
7) ,  "Melanchoha"  (Fig.  8) ,  and  "Portrait  of  Erasmus," 
1526.    Others  come  near  to  being  in  the  category  of  still- 


[40] 


55 


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FORERUNNERS  OF  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

lives,  like  "Reeds,"  in  the  Vienna  Albertina,  "The  Rab- 
bit," and  the  "Hands"  already  mentioned. 

Whether  Diirer  actually  did  any  still-life  studies  or 
not,  undoubtedly  the  attention  he  drew  to  simple  things 
did  much  to  educate  taste  and  to  make  it  understood 
that  a  work  of  art  could  consist  as  much  in  the  rendering 
of  a  rabbit  as  in  the  portraying  of  a  mythological  epi- 
sode. In  fact  his  plate  of  the  shield  with  a  death's  head 
has  far  more  value  to  us  today  than  his  large  Raphael- 
esque  "Holy  Trinity."  Diirer  was  much  honored  in  the 
Low  Coimtries  as  well  as  in  Italy,  and  influenced  at  least 
one  Dutch  painter — Lucas  van  Leyden. 

That  Hans  Holbein,  the  younger,  (1497-1543)  was 
a  true  successor  of  Quentin  Matsys,  in  one  respect  at 
least,  is  shown  in  his  portrait  of  George  Ghisze  in  the 
Berlin  Museum  (Fig.  9).  The  merchant  is  seated  in  a 
room  fuU  of  objects,  in  this  case  rather  conspicuously 
important.  On  two  sets  of  shelves  at  his  back,  and  on  a 
table,  are  a  quantity  of  objects,  rendered  in  the  manner 
of  the  Antwerp  master,  or  of  van  Roymerswael.  Other 
pictures  of  Holbein  which  show  a  similar  interest  are: 
"The  Two  Ambassadors"  in  the  London  National  Gal- 
lery (Fig.  10),  "Portrait  of  Erasmus"  in  the  Louvre 
and  "Archbishop  Warham." 

Undoubtedly  there  was  much  pure  still-life  painting 
done  in  Germany,  of  which  we  have  no  extant  examples ; 
probably  such  pictures  were  considered  no  more  import- 
ant than  sign-boards.  What  art  the  religious  wars  which 
racked  the  empire  permitted  to  flourish,  fell  under  the 
sway  of  Italy,  and  German  art  died  out. 


[41] 


CHAPTER  3 

Dutch  and  Flemish  Still-Life  Painting 


CHAPTER  3 


Pots  and  Pans 


We  have  seen  that  still-hfe  painting  began  in  the 
kitchen.  Quentin  Matsys  and  van  Roymerswael,  with 
their  genre  subjects,  paved  the  way  for  Pieter  Aertz, 
who  with  his  cooks  and  kitchen  scenes  took  for  granted 
that  the  preparation  of  bounteous  repasts  must  be  the 
most  interesting  thing  in  Hf  e — to  a  painter  at  least  I  Un- 
doubtedly with  the  Dutch  and  Flemish  the  kitchen  was 
one  of  the  most  popular  themes  in  art,  and  for  a  good 
reason ;  the  kitchen  was  an  important  department  of  the 
household.  It  was  dignified  in  a  way  we  today  in  other 
countries  can  hardly  understand.  How  else  are  we  to  ac- 
count for  those  surprising  interiors  which  are  pictured 
to  us  by  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  century  artists  ?  The 
mistress,  in  her  costly  garments,  with  lace  at  her  elbows 
and  fur  on  her  coat,  sits  at  a  table  piled  with  uncooked 
food,  while  close  by  is  the  cook  in  her  apron  preparing 
a  roast.  The  lord  and  master  stands  looking  on  with  in- 
terest— even  guests  appear  to  be  entertained  by  the  pre- 

[45] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

parations,  and  with  all  the  richness  of  the  carved  fur- 
niture, the  tiled  floor,  the  pictures  on  the  wall  and  the 
vista  through  the  doorways,  we  are  at  a  loss  to  determine 
whether  this  is  the  kitchen,  the  reception  hall,  or  the  one 
and  only  room  in  the  house  I 

In  a  farmhouse  this  would  be  imderstood,  but  what  we 
see  is  the  home  of  a  wealthy  citizen.  We  are  therefore 
forced  to  conclude  that  the  kitchen  was  no  mean  room 
in  the  household.  This  view  is  borne  out  when  one  visits 
an  ancient  country  house  in  the  Netherlands.  One 
would  be  content  today  to  use  these  kitchens  for  state 
occasions,  with  their  tiling  and  beaming,  their  spacious- 
ness, and  their  cheerfulness.  The  hearth  with  its  appur- 
tenances, its  pots  and  its  pans  hanging  on  the  wall,  or 
standing  on  the  shelves;  these  are  things  not  only  of 
utility,  but  of  beauty.  To  this  day  the  Dutch  housewife 
is  as  proud  of  her  brass  kettles  as  of  her  tableware. 

In  the  well-to-do  home  of  today,  the  kitchen  is  of 
course  not  the  place  for  the  family  to  gather.  They 
have  moved  up  one  step  into  the  dining  room.  There 
may  be  libraries  and  halls,  but  still  there  are  associations 
with  the  dining  room  that  renders  it  the  coziest  place  to 
live  in.  In  many  homes  the  dining  room  is  still  the  liv- 
ing room,  and  the  richer  its  appointments,  the  more  de- 
lightful is  it  as  a  place  in  which  to  converse  and  in  which 
to  sup  a  cup  of  tea  with  the  host  and  hostess.  I  myself 
was  surprised  when  I  first  visited  a  beautifully  ap- 
pointed home  in  the  Netherlands,  to  find  myself  being 
received  in  the  dining  room  where  the  hostess  was  busy 
with  her  embroidery,  and  the  daughters  likewise,  long 
before  the  servants  prepared  the  table  for  the  meal. 

[46] 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

This  modern  custom  in  real  Dutch  homes  to  use  the 
dining  room  as  a  Hving  room,  is  a  reflection  of  the  past 
glory  of  the  kitchen.  So  it  is  not  strange  that  the  genre 
painters  loved  to  picture  kitchen  scenes.  We  can  thus 
dispose  of  any  prejudice  at  the  start  which  leads  one  to 
hold  such  motives  in  disdain.  When  we  look  at  these 
pictures,  let  us  forget  our  modern  kitchens — the  disdain 
should  be  for  our  own  households. 

We  cannot,  however,  hold  for  a  moment  the  idea  that 
the  painters  were  attracted  to  the  kitchen  and  to  the 
pantry  merely  by  the  food.  Granted  that  the  Dutch, 
and  Flemish  were,  or  seemed  to  be,  a  trifle  gourmandish, 
we  need  not  suppose  that  they  were  much  more  so  than 
any  other  northern  people.  The  point  is  that  the  Dutch- 
man or  the  Fleming  did  not  look  upon  the  material 
things  of  life  as  too  mean  for  their  attention;  instead 
they  dignified  their  kitchens  by  their  presence.  And 
they  had  come  instinctively  to  feel  that  the  things  of  the 
pantry  and  of  the  hearth  were  as  beautiful  in  themselves 
as  the  objects  of  a  landscape. 

Henry  W.  Ranger  said,  referring  to  Rembrandt's 
painting  "The  Butcher:"^  "In  looking  at  that  picture, 
one  sees  nothing  of  blood  and  death,  but  is  charmed  by 
the  beauty  of  color  and  the  general  exquisiteness  of  the 
painting.  I  can  now  see  the  wonderful  reds  and  golden 
greys  in  the  leg  of  beef  hanging  on  the  hook  in  the 
butcher's  stall.  The  effect  helps  us  to  reahze  that  we 
are  surrounded  by  beauty  if  we  can  but  distinguish  it. 

i"Art  Talks  with   Ranger,"   Bell.     This   picture  is  in  the  Louvre.     A 
similar  version  is  in  the  Johnson  Collection,  Philadelphia. 


[47] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

In  this  instance  we  see  clearly  that  it  was  not  an  attempt 
to  accent  ugliness." 

This  is  the  answer  to  the  popular  criticism  that  paint- 
ers like  Brouwer  and  Jordaens  sought  uncouth  motives. 
But  they  sought  motives  for  art  in  departments  of  hfe 
that  were  unknown  to  other  schools.  There  was  no 
more  refined  painter  than  Brouwer  and  if  we  fail  to  find 
the  pleasure  in  groups  of  pots  and  pans  that  Teniers 
found,  perhaps  the  fault  lies  in  ourselves. 
4  David  Tenier,  the  Younger,  (1610-1690)  went  fur- 
ther than  any  other  of  the  genre  masters  we  have  so  far 
met  with,  except  Pieter  Aertz,  in  painting  groups  of 
pure  still-life.  We  may  begin  with  him,  especially  be- 
cause he  belongs  to  an  artistic  succession  which  links 
him  up  with  those  we  noticed  in  the  last  chapter.  His 
father,  David  Teniers,  the  Elder,  (1582-1649)  was  a 
genre  painter  who,  Hke  his  sons,  pictured  village  scenes, 
while  his  grantedfather  Julian  was  likewise  a  genre 
painter.    His  father-in-law  was  Velvet  Breughel. 

Teniers  the  Younger,  is  most  generally  known  for 
his  "Kermesses"  with  peasants  dancing  or  amusing 
themselves  before  quaint  rustic  taverns.  He  also  did 
peasant  interiors.  And  in  both  kinds  of  pictures  he 
painted  still-life  arrangements.  Let  us  take  his  "Interior 
of  an  Inn"  in  the  Uffizi  Gallery,  Florence  (Fig.  11). 
The  picture  is  divided  into  two  distinct  halves.  On  one 
side  is  the  butcher  with  his  chopper,  talking  to  the  cook 
who  is  cutting  up  some  meat.  On  the  other  side  is  by  far 
the  most  important  part  of  the  picture.  In  fact  this  is  a 
complete  picture  in  itself,  which  could  be  cut  off  from 
the  rest,  leaving  us  two  perfectly  unified  compositions  in 

[48] 


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DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

place  of  one.  Here  we  have  a  whole  beef  cut  open  and 
hung  from  a  cross  beam  of  the  roof.  Below,  grouped 
about  a  large  barrel  is  a  tipped-up  plate  from  which  are 
falling  onions,  leeks  and  lettuce  heads.  On  a  rough 
stool  are  other  vegetables,  while  on  the  floor  are  large 
heads  of  cabbage,  some  bowls,  a  basket  and  various 
cooking  utensils.  Needless  to  say,  such  a  variety  teems 
with  color;  the  color  is  obviously  the  main  charm,  for  the 
painter  has  placed  his  luscious  green  cabbages  next  to 
the  beef  with  its  many  hues  of  red-pink,  salmon  and 
purple.  The  pottery  adds  the  ochre  tones,  the  barrels 
and  the  stool  and  the  dark  background  of  the  walls  give 
the  more  sombre  greys  and  browns.  But  the  coloring 
is  not  less  delightful  than  the  lighting.  That  Teniers 
has  arranged  his  meat,  vegetables,  and  utensils  with 
more  attention  to  the  play  of  light  and  shadow  upon 
them  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  the  brightest  notes 
are  concentrated  on  the  upper  half  of  the  beef  while 
most  of  the  objects  are  in  shadow.  Here  is  the  proof 
that  meat  and  vegetables  are  painted  not  because  the 
painter  was  drawn  by  material  associations  to  portray 
them,  not  because  these  things  suggest  good  meals  to 
come,  but  because  of  the  opportunity  they  afford  the 
painter  to  revel  in  color  and  light.  Otherwise  why  does 
he  place  some  objects  in  a  shadow?  If  all  he  wanted  to 
do  was  to  display  his  wares,  to  excite  our  appetites,  this 
would  be  a  poor  advertisement  indeed.  There  is  a  sim- 
ilar picture  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum,  attributed  to 
David  Teniers  the  Elder. 

The  above  "Interior"  is  indeed  a  revel  of  color,  and 
one  must  admit  a  bit  flagrant.    Far  more  tasteful  are 

[49] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

other  arrangements  of  Teniers.  We  may  take  his  "In- 
terior of  a  Farmhouse"  in  the  National  Gallery  in 
London  (Fig.  12).  A  peasant  woman  peeling  pears  is 
introduced  by  way  of  an  excuse.  There  are  three  sepa- 
rate parts  to  this  picture;  on  one  side  is  a  perfect  still- 
life  group  consisting  of  a  half -barrel  section  turned  up- 
side down,  with  a  white  towel  and  a  kettle  on  it,  a  large 
pot,  a  jug,  a  wooden  block,  a  flask,  one  or  two  other  re- 
ceptacles, two  cauliflowers,  and  a  collection  of  pears. 
Overhead,  on  a  cross-beam,  hangs  a  bit  of  cloth,  while 
on  top  of  a  rough  plastered  oven  lies  an  old  coat  and  a 
battered  hat.  These  few  objects,  high  above,  set  ofip  in 
agreeable  contrast  the  larger  group  below.  As  a  group, 
this  is  one  of  Teniers'  best ;  there  is  restraint  in  the  num- 
ber of  objects  presented,  not  so  many  as  to  bewilder  one; 
there  are  enough  open  spaces  to  give  a  sense  of  rest,  and 
a  naturalism,  in  spite  of  their  evident  arrangement, 
which  is  most  engaging. 

Another  of  Teniers'  pictures  is  similar  to  the  last;  I 
refer  to  his  farmhouse  or  tavern  "Interior"  in  Bucking- 
ham Palace  (Fig.  13).  The  collection  is  again  arranged 
in  front  of  a  rough  wall  with  great  posts  filled  in  with 
brick  and  plaster  and  the  familiar  oven.  It  is  another  of 
those  pictures  where  the  still-Hfe  constitutes  an  inde- 
pendent composition  so  that  the  other  part  of  the  canvas 
could  be  cut  away  without  any  detriment  to  this.  There 
are  more  objects  here — two  of  which  Teniers  was  very 
fond  of  introducing,  a  wheelbarrow  full  of  vegetables, 
and  a  long-necked  flask  with  a  piece  of  paper  or  a  tiu*- 
nip-top  for  a  cork.    This  flask  with  its  interesting  cork 


[50] 


DAVID  TENIERS  THE  YOUNGER 
DETAIL  FROIVI  "INTERIOR  OF  A  FARMHOUSE" 

BUCKINGHAM  PALACE,  LOKDON 


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DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

might  almost  serve  as  a  signature  for  Teniers ;  it  occurs 
so  often  and  is  so  characteristically  obvious. 

Pictures  like  these  are  illustrations  of  the  freedom 
of  fancy  the  painter  may  indulge  in.  He  can  make  any 
arrangement  he  pleases  that  will  give  him  the  chance 
for  painting  light  and  color.  Here  is  an  old  hat  with 
a  feather  in  it,  on  top  of  a  barrel,  two  cheeses  on  a  stool, 
and  everywhere  about  pots  and  pans,  baskets  of  fruit 
and  vegetables,  of  every  size  and  in  great  confusion, 
melons,  artichokes,  cucumbers,  turnips  and  many  others. 
But  notice  the  unity  evolved  from  the  apparent  chaos. 
The  group  assumes  a  pyramidal  form,  while  the  dark 
and  simple  background  of  the  wall  gives  the  proper  con- 
trast and  balance.  I  know  of  no  more  successful  ar- 
rangement of  a  complicated  group  than  this.  Not  only 
is  it  harmonious  with  the  proper  balance  of  restful  spaces 
against  concentrated  masses,  but  there  is  variety  in  the 
shapes  of  the  things.  There  is  not  an  inch  of  monotony 
on  the  canvas. 

It  is  worth  while  dwelling  at  this  length  upon  Teniers, 
as  in  these  groupings  by  him  we  see  the  prototypes  for 
much  of  the  still-life  painting  that  has  been  done  since. 
The  brass  kettle,  turned  on  its  side  so  that  its  polished, 
dented  interior  can  catch  the  light;  the  white  cloth 
thrown  casually  over  the  table ;  the  wine  flask  behind  the 
kettle ;  the  vegetables  placed  together  nearby ;  these  are 
the  famihar  objects  which  strike  us  in  the  still-life  of 
today,  and  which  come  down  to  us  from  Teniers. 

When  we  think  of  Teniers,  we  think  also  of  Adrian 
Brouwer.  The  latter  was  older  than  Teniers  by  four 
years,  and  died  at  the  early  age  of  thirty-two,  hence 

[51] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

chronologically  we  should  speak  of  him  first.  Moreover 
it  is  evident  that  Teniers  drew  much  inspiration  from 
him.  But  Brouwer's  still-life  groups  are  seldom  the  in- 
dependent arrangements  that  Teniers'  were.  We  do  not 
feel  like  cutting  them  out  of  their  canvases  to  make 
separate  pictures,  as  we  do  with  Teniers.' 

Brouwer  was  a  greater  painter.  He  is  an  even  better 
example  of  the  painter  who  could  create  beauty  where 
it  would  be  least  expected.  In  his  disreputable  cellars, 
where  the  vilest  wretches  of  the  country  are  drinking, 
gambling  and  brawling,  what  motive  could  there  be  for 
artistic  expression?  The  answer  is,  the  light.  The  most 
wonderful  grey  tonality  pervades  his  pictures.  They 
are  bathed  in  a  mysterious  haze  which,  though  dark, 
vibrates.  Brower  knew  so  well  the  vibrant  quality  of 
light  that  his  figures,  as  well  as  every  object  around 
them,  move  and  seem  to  live.  We  anticipate  that  his 
still-life  groups  would  sparkle  with  light  and  color,  and 
they  do.  Take,  for  example,  "The  Brawl"  in  Dresden, 
and  we  see  the  upturned  half  of  a  barrel,  used  for  a  table, 
over  which  is  thrown  a  cloth,  and  beside  it,  a  jug  and 
a  saucer. 

"Four  Peasants  Fighting"  in  Munich  has  character- 
istic groups  of  still-life — rough  benches,  baskets  for  seats, 
old  towels,  jugs,  bottles  and  broomsticks.  Obvious  still- 
life  groups  are  to  be  found,  likewise,  in  the  "Room  in  the 
Village  Baths"  in  Munich,  and  "Gambling  Peasants" 
in  Munich.  In  fact  almost  any  picture  by  Brouwer  con- 
tains still-life  groupings. 

David  Ryckaert  III  (1612-1661),  was  a  pupil  of 
Teniers  who  did  exactly  the  same  thing  in  the  way  of 

[52] 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

still-lives — introducing  them  into  interiors  where  they 
make  separate  pictures.  His  "Peasant  Interior"^  in 
Dresden,  might  be  compared  to  Teniers'  "Interior" 
just  mentioned.  The  figures  are  small,  obscurely  placed 
in  a  dark  corner.  The  main  picture  consists  of  a  col- 
lection of  barrels,  chums,  vegetables,  pots  and  pans,  well 
lighted  and  rich  in  coloring — the  polished  surfaces  of 
the  metal  pots  being  the  strongest  note — but  they  are 
not  nearly  so  well  grouped.  One  in  the  Metropolitan 
Museum  is  a  splendid  example — an  interior  with  still- 
life  predominating.  There  are  deep  brown  shadows  but 
withal  a  silvery  light  and  especially  rich  coloring  to  the 
pots  and  pans. 

Another  painter  who  loved  mere  pots  and  pans  was 
Gerard  Dou  (1613-1675).    Dou  is  a  striking  contrast 
to  Brouwer  who  brushed  in  his  compositions  with  a  spon- 
taneity and  easy  freedom  that  was  marvelous.    Dou  is 
conspicuous  for  his  painstaking  minuteness  of  detail,  vj 
He  was,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  a  miniature  painter> .^ 
but,  unlike  most  painters  of  detail,  he  keeps  everything ' 
in  its  place;  a  pupil  of  Rembrandt,  he  never  lost  sight 
of  the  value  of  light  and  atmosphere  as  an  envelopment 
for  his  figures  and  objects. 

One  of  his  pictures,  "The  Housemaid,"  in  Bucking- 
ham Palace,  London  (Fig.  15),  shows  us  a  housemaid 
leaning  against  a  window  frame,  polishing  a  kettle. 
In  the  window  hangs  a  bird  cage — as  dear  to  Dou  as 
a  corkless  bottle  was  to  Teniers — and  on  the  sill  is  a 
pewter  pitcher  and  a  ladle.  The  simplicity  with  which 
these  few  objects  are  grouped,  the  exquisiteness   of 

2  The  Dresden  Gallery  possesses  two  still-lives  by  him. 

[53] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

their  execution,  make  this  httle  picture  as  charming 
as  any  of  Don's  works.  Godfried  Schalcken  painted 
a  variation  of  this  composition.  His  "Woman  Scour- 
ing Pans"  in  the  National  Gallery  is  very  like  Don's. 
More  conspicuous  for  its  still-life  is  Don's  "Grocery 
Shop"  in  Buckingham  Palace  (Fig.  17).  In  spite 
of  the  figures,  this  is  obviously  a  tour  de  force  in  still- 
life  painting.  This  is  its  fault — its  interest  is  divided 
— even  multiphed.  Fortunately  this  kind  of  thing  was 
not  indulged  in  by  many  painters.  We  have  Don's 
favorite  composition — a  view  through  a  window  frame, 
with  the  marvelously  executed  has  relief  of  puttie 
playing  with  a  goat,  at  the  base — a  perfect  imita- 
tion of  stone.  On  the  window  frame  again,  are  Don's 
bird  cages.  But  inside!  What  an  encumbrance  of 
wares!  Granted  the  perfection  with  which  every 
plate,  piece  of  fruit,  jar  or  bucket  is  painted,  the  picture 
is  unsatisfactory.  Our  eyes  wander  from  the  disturbing 
chaos — there  is  no  grouping — no  centre  of  interest — 
no  rest. 

This,  then,  is  an  example  of  what  still-life  painting 
should  never  aim  to  be — mere  imitation.  Perfect  imita- 
tion of  objects  this  is  indeed! 

Better  is  his  "The  Alchemist,"  in  the  Hermitage  col- 
lection, Petrograd  (Fig.  16).  It  reminds  one  of  a  "St. 
Jerome  in  his  Study."  On  the  broad  window  sill,  like  a 
table,  are  placed  a  great  open  book — a  candlestick,  of 
course — a  mortar  and  pestle — a  basin — a  sphere,  and  a 
few  papers.  Behind,  on  a  reading  desk,  are  more  books 
and  the  usual  human  skull,  while  the  very  centre  of  in- 
terest— the  point  to  the  picture,  is  the  flask  of  liquid 

[54] 


GERARD  DOU,  THE  GROCERY  SHOP 

BUCKINGHAM    PALACE,    LONDON 


NICHOLAS  MAES,  GRACE  BEFORE  MEAT 

RYKS   MUSEUM.  AMSTERDAM 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

which  the  alchemist  holds  up  to  the  light  and  to  the  ad- 
miring gaze  of  the  spectator.  There  is  imitation  here  to 
be  sure,  but  more  beside.     There  is  arrangement,  at- 

<mosphere,  light  and  concentration. 

One  of  Dou's  best  known  pictures  is  "The  Young 
Mother"  in  the  Mauritshuis,  The  Hague.  It  is  an  in- 
terior— one  of  the  uncertain  kind  where  living  room 
merges  into  pantry.  The  spaciousness,  the  elegance  of 
most  of  the  furniture,  the  heraldry  in  the  casement  seem 
to  indicate  it  is  a  drawing  room;  but  the  group  of  still- 
life,  in  the  foreground,  at  one  side,  seem  to  belie  this 
appearance,  for  here  we  have  a  table  with  a  grouse  or 
quail,  and  a  cabbage  upon  itj,  a  broomstick  lesaning 
against  it  and  a  basket,  a  pot,  a  lantern,  a  kettle,  and  a 
bunch  of  carrots  at  its  feet.  Hanging  upon  the  wall  is  a 
hare.  The  arrangement  might  have  been  taken  out  of  a 
Teniers.  We  wonder  if  the  broomstick  was  the  identical 
one  upon  which  alone  Gerard  Dou  is  said  to  have  worked 
for  days! 

There  were  a  number  of  painters  of  the  Amsterdam 
school  who,  following  Pieter  Aertz  and  Rembrandt, 
loved  to  paint  pictures  of  pots  and  pans,  jugs,  utensils 

^<of  various  kinds,  and  articles  of  food,  using  figure  sub- 
jects which  gave  them  the  opportunity  they  desired. 

.1.  Nicolas  Maes  (1632-1693)  was  one  of  these.  Two  of  his 
pictures  are  worth  studying.  His  "Grace  Before  Meat" 
in  the  Ryks  Museum,  Amsterdam  (Fig.  18),  shows  us 
an  old  woman,  with  head  bowed,  eyes  closed  and  hands 
clasped,  seated  before  a  table  on  which  her  simple  meal  is 
placed.  The  tablecloth  catches  the  full  hght  so  that  the 
objects  stand  out  upon  it  with  greater  distinctness  than 

[55] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

anything  else  in  the  picture  save  the  hands  and  face.  The 
cat  in  one  comer  serves  to  accentuate  the  interest  in  the 
still-life  on  the  table.  And  how  thankful  we  are  for  the 
relief  those  objects  bring  us!  The  hot  glow  of  the 
shadow,  the  deep  red  of  the  woman's  costume,  the  gen- 
eral yellowish  tone  over  the  whole,  needs  the  cool  blues  of 
the  pottery,  the  silver  greys  of  the  metal,  the  whites  and 
creams  of  the  plates  and  tablecloth. 

"The  Good  for  Nothing  Servant"  in  the  National 
Gallery,  London,  is  of  similar  genre,  for,  in  spite  of  the 
importance  of  the  figures  in  the  picture,  our  attention  is 
definitely  drawn  to  the  still-life.  The  story  which  the 
picture  tells  is  that  of  broken  pots. 

Metsu  (1629-1667)  was  another  who  contributed  to 
the  style.  He  used  in  many  cases,  the  same  compositions 
as  Dou  with  the  window  frame.  He  painted  Breakast 
Scenes,  Herring  Sellers,  and  Fish  Girls,  in  all  of  which 
pictures  still-life  is  important,  though  not  paramount  to 
the  human  interest. 

Such  pictures  as  these  exerted  great  influence  upon 
succeeding  generations  of  still-life  painters,  who  did 
similar  things.  Even  the  art  of  the  superb  Chardin  re- 
flected Maes,  Metsu  and  the  Dutch  painters  of  familiar 
genre. 

Any  number  of  painters  continued  to  do  genre  with 
still-life  in  Holland,  until  the  last  days  of  the  decline. 
To  illustrate  how  long  the  style  lasted,  we  need  to  refer 
only  to  Willem  van  Mieris  (1662-1747)  (Fig.  20)  and 
to  his  son  Franz  van  Mieris  the  Younger  (1689-1763) 
two  of  the  last  masters  of  the  Dutch  school  to  preserve 
the  national  tradition.    Willem's  "Market  Stall"  in  the 

[56] 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

Fitzwilliam  Collection,  Cambridge,  has  the  kettles,  the 
game  birds,  the  basket  of  fish,  and  the  fruit  dear  to  these 
painters.  Franz  the  Younger  did  apothecary  and  gro- 
cery shops  in  the  style  of  Dou  and  Metsu. 

II 

Trophies  of  the  Hunt 

As  we  have  seen,  it  was  the  kitchen  and  the  pantry  ^ 
which  first  drew  the  attention  of  the  Dutch  and  Flemish 
painters  to  still-life.  Here  the  painters  first  saw  the 
beauty  of  mere  pots  and  pans,  common  vegetables  and 
articles  of  food.  Their  eyes  once  opened  to  these  things, 
it  was  but  natural  that  finally  some  painter  should  arise 
bold  enough  to  tear  the  still-life  from  its  setting  and 
claim  for  his  gorgeous  compositions  independence  as 
works  of  art. 

It  has  been  the  custom  for  writers  to  take  for  granted 
that  still-life  painting  began  with  the  sign-board.  One 
will  find  in  almost  any  discussion  of  the  subject  such 
statements  as  these,  "De  Heem,  who  was  the  first  still- 
life  painter,  probably  was  merely  a  sign  painter."  Very 
likely  he  did  paint  sign-boards.  But  his  dates  are  1570- 
1632.  Jacopo  de'  Barbari,  the  Germanized  Italian, 
painted  a  fine  still-life  in  1504,  and  Quentin  Matsys  of 
Antwerp  was  probably  painting  old  books  and  skulls 
quite  as  early.  The  error  probably  arose  from  the  fact 
that  old  Dutch  sign-boards  were  particularly  artistic. 
We  know  it  was  customary  for  inns,  taverns,  game  deal- 
ers' and  tradesmen's  shops  to  have  attractively  painted 
signs  advertising  the  nature  of  their  business.     These 

[57] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

signs  often  presented  complete  pictures.  Nothing  could 
be  more  appropriate  for  an  inn  than  to  have  a  sign  pic- 
turing some  luscious  article  of  food.  "The  Red  Herring 
Inn"  would  have  a  well-rendered  herring  on  its  sign. 
"The  White  Rabbit"  would  have  a  sign  illustrative  of 
its  name  and  so  would  "The  Stag,"  "The  Pheasant" 
and  "The  Cock."  Accustomed  as  the  public  must  have 
been  to  these  signs,  it  would  have  been  perfectly  logical 
to  regard  an  exceptionally  well  painted  one  as  a  work  of 
art.  Certainly  it  was  not  beneath  the  dignity  of  the 
painter  to  eke  out  his  livelihood  in  this  way — just  as 
Roger  van  der  Weyden  and  the  Flemish  Court  painters 
blazoned  shields.  We  might  entertain  the  thought  that 
many  a  still-life  painter  began  his  career  by  painting 
signs,  and  that  we  know  was  the  case  with  Chardin. 

Whatever  influence  sign-boards  may  have  had  in  ac- 
customing the  public  to  view  still-lives  as  individual 
pictures,  we  cannot  regard  them  as  forerunners  or  proto- 
types of  still-life  painting.     The  historic  development  / 
through  the  genre  too  clearly  tells  us  that  the  process '^ 
was  a  gradual  emancipation. 

There  was  one  particular  kind  of  still-life  subject 
which  freed  itself  earlier  than  the  rest.  It  was  a  dead 
jpartridge  that  Barbari  painted  in  1504.  Possibly  dead 
game  had  more  obvious  claims  to  beauty  than  raw  beef 
and  carrots.  Even  the  most  initiated  must  admit  that 
the  plumage  of  pheasants  or  the  fur  of  hinds  is  easier  to 
admire  than  dripping  flesh.  It  taxes  our  aesthetic  ap- 
preciation a  bit  less. 

Undoubtedly  painters  felt  for  a  long  time  as  many  do 
today  that  there  was  an  objection  upon  the  part  of 

[58] 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

the  public  to  witness  the  things  of  the  kitchen  framed 
by  themselves,  and  hanging  on  their  walls.  But  there 
could  be  less  objection  to  a  string  of  partridges. 

Perhaps  this  was  one  of  the  reasons  which  led  Franz 
Snyders  (1579-1657)  to  devote  entire  compositions  to 
dead  game.  But  undoubtedly  he  was  also  led  to  do  so 
by  his  success  as  an  animal  painter  in  collaboration  with 
Rubens. 

Snyders  was  a  pupil  of  Pieter  Breughel  the  Younger, 
which  connects  him  with  his  primitive  forerunners,  but 
he  was  far  more  influenced  by  his  contact  with  Rubens. 
In  Rubens'  "Faun"  in  the  Schoenbom  collection,  and  in 
"The  Progress  of  Silenus,"  at  Berlin,  Snyders  painted 
the  fruit,  while  in  Rubens'  "Diana  Returning  from  the 
Chase"  in  the  Dresden  Gallery,  he  is  responsible  for 
the  game  and  the  hounds.  This  collaboration  helped 
Snyders  to  attain  a  mellowness  of  tone,  a  luminosity  of 
color  and  a  freedom  of  style  for  which  Rubens  was 
noted. 

One  can  hardly  conceive  of  greater  richness  than 
Snyders  attains  in  some  of  his  still-lives.  This  is  gained 
not  so  much  by  his  elaborate  arrangements — a  great 
number  of  objects  often  being  introduced — as  by  his  col- 
oring. The  shimmer  of  the  fur  of  his  animals,  the  lustre 
of  the  plumage  of  his  birds  would  naturally  contribute 
to  richness,  but  few  painters  were  able  to  paint  fur  and 
feathers  with  the  delicate  iridescence  of  Snyders.  There 
is  but  one  fault  in  his  pictures — one  that  still-life  paint- 
ers often  make — they  are  often  too  crowded — like 
Teniers'  "Interior"  with  the  beef — too  suggestive  of 
voluptuous  living. 

[59] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

This  criticism  applies  best  to  his  pictures  of  fruit. 
These  we  will  refer  to  merely  in  passing,  as  van  Huysum 
far  excelled  him  in  this  type  of  picture.  One  in  the 
Copenhagen  Museum  is  a  magnificent  assemblage  of  all 
kinds  of  fruit,  large  and  small,  in  baskets  and  bowls,  and 
is  better  than  most  in  arrangement.  About  as  bad  an 
example  of  still-life  as  one  could  conceive  is  his  "Fruit 
Stall"  in  the  Hermitage,  Petrograd,  where  the  still-life 
is  scattered  pell-mell  over  the  canvas.  Scarcely  less 
chaotic  and  riotous  is  his  "Fruit  and  Monkey"  in  Lon- 
don. Snyders  frequently  introduced  a  monkey  or  ape 
in  his  pictures,  establishing  an  example  popularly  fol- 
lowed hereafter  in  the  Netherlands  down  to  the  time 
of  Allebe.  Such  pictures  must  be  placed  in  the  same 
category  as  Hondekoeter's ;  as  pictures  of  live  animals. 

Snyders'  pictures  are  of  varying  quality,  for  some- 
times, as  in  his  large  canvas  in  the  Mauritzhuis,  The 
Hague,  he  shows  neither  luminosity,  fine  coloring  nor 
unity,  but  a  really  fine  example  of  his  art  is  to  be  seen 
in  his  "Wild  Game"  in  the  Ryks  Museum  at  Amster- 
dam. There  are  two  of  these  pictures  in  the  same  mu- 
seum. I  refer  to  the  one  with  a  large  roe,  hanging  by 
a  leg,  with  its  head  resting  on  a  table  (Fig.  21) .  On  the 
table  also  are  a  boar's  head  and  a  boiled  lobster,  and  near- 
by is  a  basket  of  fruit  and  a  vase  of  flowers.  The  composi- 
tion is  especially  forceful,  with  the  interest  concentrated 
upon  the  handsome  animal,  wonderfully  executed.  Here, 
too,  is  mastery  of  color,  a  combination  of  boldness  with 
subtlety,  the  red  of  the  lobster,  the  brightness  of  the 
fruit  and  flowers  contrasting  well  with  the  deUcacy  of 
the  animal's  fur. 

[60] 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILI^LIFE  PAINTING 

Less  successful  is  Snyders'  "Larder"  in  the  Munich 
Pinakothek.  The  unity  of  the  group  is  spoiled  by  the 
introduction  of  the  figure.  Though  there  is  too  much 
in  the  picture,  Snyders  is  here  again  supreme  in  his  mas- 
tery of  textures. 

A  painter  who  understood  pure  still-life  painting 
much  better  than  Snyders  was  Jan  Fyt  (1611-1661) .  As 
a  pupil  of  the  former  he  was  able  to  profit  by  the  ex- 
cellences as  well  as  by  the  mistakes  of  Snyders.  He  sel- 
dom errs  by  overcrowding.  He  discovered  that,  if  the 
beauty  which  attracts  one  in  dead  game  consists  in  the 
richness  of  their  coloring  and  the  soft  texture  of  their 
fur  and  feathers,  then  the  painter  must  insist  upon  these 
things  and  these  alone. 

Fyt  therefore  is  the  best  still-life  painter  we  have  as 
yet  come  across.  His  picture  of  "Dead  Game"  in  the 
Metropolitan  Museum  (Fig.  23)  is  a  perfect  expression 
of  this  type.  He  shows  a  collection  of  but  seven  game 
birds — products,  perhaps,  of  a  day's  hunt — partridges 
and  woodcocks — thrown  upon  the  ground.  The  back- 
ground is  a  relief,  in  the  sense  of  being  quiet  and  neutral 
although  very  rich  and  deep  in  coloring,  although  low  in 
key,  a  large  straw  basket  alone  serving  to  offset  the  plu- 
mage of  the  birds.  There  is  no  bold  contrast  of  color; 
the  painter  confines  himself  to  the  tones  and  colors  of  the 
feathers ;  it  is  a  study  of  the  variegation  of  color  spark- 
ling against  rich  indigo  tones.  There  are  two  other 
good  Fyts  in  this  Museum,  a  "Dead  Hare"  with  wood- 
cocks, and  "Dead  Partridges"  at  the  foot  of  an  old  tree. 

Jan  Fyt  in  his  later  career  developed  a  very  bold  and 
dramatic  style  in  his  treatment  of  animals.    Generally 

[61] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

such  pictures  are  combinations  of  live  and  dead  animals, 
as  in  "The  Eagle's  Repast"  in  the  Antwerp  Museum, 
and  "Deer  and  Hares"  in  Berlin.  Fyt  also  did  still- 
lives  with  fish,  fruit  and  foliage  superbly  rich;  but  he  is 
most  characteristic  in  his  dead  game,  and  there  is  no 
better  example  of  this  type  than  the  one  first  mentioned, 
that  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum. 

Fyt  had,  like  all  great  masters,  pupils  and  imitators. 
Adriaen  van  Utrecht  (Antwerp  1599-1652)  although  an 
older  man,  and  a  painter  of  various  kinds  of  still-life, 
was  undoubtedly  influenced  in  his  later  pictures  by 
Snyders  and  Fyt.  A  picture  of  his,  in  this  country,  may 
be  seen  in  the  Wilstach  Collection,  Philadelphia.  All 
these  painters  are  best  known  by  their  paintings  of  dead 
game.  Pieter  Boel  (1622-1674)  was  possibly  a  pupil 
of  Snyders  as  well  as  of  Fyt.  He  painted  live  animals, 
hunting  scenes,  and  also  still-lives  of  dead  game.  He, 
in  turn,  was  the  master  of  the  Antwerp  painter,  David 
de  Coninck  (1636-1699)  who  continued  the  style  of 
Snyders  and  Fyt,  painting  hunting  scenes  and  dead 
game  with  exceptionally  fine  coloring  and  good  design. 

In  Holland,  at  this  time,  a  different  style  of  dead 
game  painting  was  being  produced. 

Jan  Weenicx  (Amsterdam  1640-1719)  with  his 
father  Jan  Baptist  Weenicx  (1621-1660)  (Fig.  24)  de- 
veloped a  type  of  still-life  which  for  decorative  effect 
surpassed  anything  that  had  been  done,  and  when  one 
looks  at  their  pictures  today,  one  can  hardly  conceive  of 
any  arrangements  more  sumptuous  than  these. 

Jan  Weenicx,  the  son,  was  the  most  brilliant  of  the 
two,  so  we  will  take  a  few  examples  of  his  art  as  illustra- 

[62] 


JAN  BAPTISTE  WEENICX,  A  TROPHY  OF  THE  HUNT 

RYKS   MUSEUM,  AMSTERDAM 


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DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

tions.  His  picture  in  the  Alte  Pinakothek,  Munich  ( Fig. 
25) ,  represents  a  large  dead  hare,  hung  up  by  a  leg  to  the 
branch  of  a  grape  vine,  its  head  resting  on  the  ground. 
On  one  side  is  a  turkey,  on  the  other  a  few  small  game 
birds  and  some  fruit.  These  objects  all  appear  to  be  in 
a  garden,  for  in  the  distance  we  see  tall,  well-trimmed 
cedars,  a  flight  of  stone  steps  with  a  balustrade,  with 
figures,  and  a  distant  view  of  garden  terraces  and  foun- 
tains. 

His  picture  in  the  Ryks  Museum,  Amsterdam,  is 
similar.  Here  we  have  a  large  dead  hare,  with  other 
game,  thrown  upon  the  ground,  beside  a  large  urn,  be- 
hind which  is  a  view  of  a  park  and  a  castle  (Fig  27) . 

The  famous  Weenicx  in  the  Mauritshuis,  The  Hague, 
"The  Dead  Swan,"  again  pictures  a  garden  scene.  In 
this  case,  beside  the  urn  are  thrown  a  magnificent  white 
swan  and  a  deer.^ 

These  three  pictures,  like  others  of  his,  are  as  far  re- 
moved from  the  plebeian  kitchen  type  as  the  lord  of  a 
manor  from  one  of  his  peasant  tenants.  For  this  is  aris- 
tocratic still-life.  The  nobleman  or  country  gentleman 
has  returned  from  the  hunt;  by  his  garden  steps  he  has 
thrown  his  trophies,  even  his  gun,  and  leaves  to  us  the 
pleasant  contemplation  of  gorgeously  plumaged  swans, 
carved  urns,  balustrades,  marble  terraces  and  gardens. 
These  decorations  were,  in  fact,  designed  for  princely 
halls,  and  the  largest  collection  of  Weenicx's  paintings 
belonged  to  the  Kurf  iirst  Johann  Wilhelm  of  Diisseldorf 
at  Schloss  Bensberg.  What  a  glimpse  we  catch  of  the 
elegance  of  country  life  I  What  suggestiveness  of  human 

3  A  variant  of  this  is  in  the  Wilstach  Collection,  Philadelphia. 

[63] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

associations  with  these  things!  And,  leaving  the  land- 
scape out  of  consideration,  how  decorative  is  the  arrange- 
ment, how  rich  the  coloring ! 

There  is  genius  displayed  in  Weenicx's  compositions, 
for  it  would  have  been  easy  for  him  to  divide  the  interest 
in  his  picture.  But  our  attention  never  wavers  between 
the  landscape  and  the  game.  The  distant  view,  like  the 
background  of  a  Parthenon  metope,  gives  space  and 
rest,  and  brings  the  main  objects  out  in  relief.  There  is 
always  one  thing  upon  which  the  hght  is  concentrated — 
the  dead  bird  or  the  dead  hare,  and  on  these  is  lavished 
the  painter's  skill — as  great  as  Jan  Fyt's — in  rendering 
textures  and  subtleties  of  coloring,  whether  it  be  the  ir- 
idescence of  turkey  feathers,  the  velvety  sheen  of  rabbit 
skins,  or  the  soft  whiteness  of  swan  plumage.  But  he 
excells  Fyt  in  luminosity.  Always  brilliant,  highly 
keyed,  his  pictures  seem  lit  from  within,  radiating  gold 
and  amber. 

Weenicx's  pictures  meet  nearly  every  test  we  would 
demand  of  good  still-life  painting — or  of  any  good  paint- 
ing for  that  matter.  They  make  that  appeal  to  our 
imagination  which  convinces  us  that  the  artist  conceived 
a  vision  of  beauty,  that  he  experienced  a  profound  emo- 
tion, which  he  has  been  able  to  interpret  in  turn  to  us. 
By  means  of  his  arrangements  he  has  impressed  us  with 
the  force  and  unity  of  his  original  conception;  by  the 
skill  of  his  execution  he  has  permanently  charmed  us, 
as  in  a  musical  composition,  there  is  force  and  volume, 
contrasted  with  quietness  and  low  tones,  never  the  same 
repetition. 

If  one  wishes  to  appreciate  more  fully  the  qualities  of 

[64] 


JAN  WEENICX,  DEAD  GAME 

RYKS    MUSEUM,    AMSTERDAM 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

a  Weenicx,  let  him  compare  one  of  those  I  have  de- 
scribed with  a  Valkenburg  (Fig.  26) .  Dirk  Valkenburg 
(1675-1721)  was  an  imitator  of  Jan  Weenicx.  He  also 
pictured  trophies  of  the  chase  thrown  by  the  terrace 
steps.  Like  Weenicx,  he  was  employed  by  princely  pa- 
trons, notably  by  Prince  Lichtenstein,  in  Vienna,  and  by 
William  III  of  Holland.  There  is  an  example  of  his 
works  in  the  Ryks  Musemn,  Amsterdam,  entitled  "Wild 
Game."  In  spite  of  the  richness  of  his  arrangements, 
and  his  wealth  of  detail,  how  lacking  they  are  in  force 
and  impressiveness !  These  are  the  works  of  a  borrowed 
talent,  of  a  man  whose  inspiration  was  the  mere  reflec- 
tion of  a  master's.  We  are  lost  in  his  detail,  beautiful  as 
it  is;  there  is  that  lack  of  concentration,  that  failure  to 
say  one  thing,  that  spoils  any  work  of  art. 

Weenicx  was  the  last  word  in  this  type  of  Dutch  still- 
life  painting.  With  him,  unless  we  include  Melchior 
d'Hondekoeter  among  the  painters  of  trophies  of  the 
hunt,  culminated  the  movement  started  by  Pieter  Aertz 
in  Holland  to  paint  dead  animals,  whether  in  the  kitchen 
or  out  of  it.  Weenicx  takes  us  out  of  the  kitchen  and 
the  larder,  into  the  chateau  courtyard,  and  with  him  we 
almost  approach  the  French  spirit  of  decorative  treat- 
ment. 

Weenicx  had  another  and  more  famous  pupil,  his 
nephew,  Melchior  d'Hondekoeter  (Utrecht  1636- Am- 
sterdam 1695)  (Fig.  28).  Melchior  d'Hondekoeter! 
What  a  vision  of  wealth  and  splendor  his  name  spreads 
before  us !  He  was  not  a  still-life  painter,  and  yet,  he  was. 
This  paradox  is  explained  by  the  fact  that  his  reputa- 
tion rests  upon  his  pictures  of  live  birds  and  wild  fowl, 

[65] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

while  at  the  same  time  he  did  dead  game  and  still-lives 
for  which  he  is  not  well  known.  The  trouble  is  that  the 
word  still-life  or  "nature  morte"  is  a  much  abused  term. 
But  it  is  only  a  step  from  the  art  of  Weenicx  to  that  of 
his  famous  pupil.  Both  excelled  in  large,  decorative 
compositions,  designed  for  palaces  and  patrician  homes 
— Hondekoeter  decorated  "Het  Loo"  for  William 
III — and  what  small  difference  is  there  between  a  "Dead 
Swan"  by  a  castle  terrace,  and  a  "Floating  Feather"  in 
some  garden  pool? 

The  charm  of  Hondekoeter*s  paintings  consists  of 
many  things.  In  decorative  design  they  are  mag- 
nificent— even  magical — in  coloring  they  are  rich,  glow- 
ing, brilliant  beyond  words;  in  imaginative  appeal 
they  are  unequalled ;  there  is  a  subtle  enchantment  about 
his  strange  and  foreign  birds  in  lordly  parks  which  sug- 
gests oriental  romance.  When  we  see  his  peacocks  and 
his  owls — unearthly,  mysterious  birds — we  expect  to  see 
some  Arabian  prince  or  Chinese  princess  in  the  scene,  or 
we  imagine  some  picture  like  Hondekoeter's  where  they 
would  appear.  But  there  is  still  another  quality  in  Hon- 
dekoeter's pictures  which  makes  them  admired  today  as 
they  were  always  admired,  a  quality  which  is  peculiarly 
Dutch.  We  call  this  quahty  purely  pictorial.  This  can 
best  be  explained  by  comparing  a  picture  of  Honde- 
koeter with  an  animal  picture  by  Landseer.  As  far  as 
skill  is  concerned — in  rendering  life — texture  of  fur  or 
hair,  the  English  master  is  as  clever  as  the  Dutchman. 
But  Landseer's  pictures  sicken  us  today — like  Greuze's 
— with  their  sentimentality.  The  Enghshman  is  telling 
us  a  story,  pointing  out  a  moral ;  his  art  is  not  so  much 

[66] 


MELCHIOR    D'HONDEKOETER, 
EAGLES  ATTACKING  FOWL 

LOUVRE,    PARIS 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

that  of  painting  as  of  sermonizing.  "A  Distinguished 
Member  of  the  Hmnane  Society!"  None  of  that  for 
Hondekoeter.    The  Dutchman  is  a  painter  above  all. 

As  Hondekoeter's  masterpieces  are  not  still-lives,  we 
w^ill  refer  only  to  his  less  well-known  paintings,  which 
are.  The  Ryks  Museum,  Amsterdam,  possesses  one 
called  "Dead  Birds."  In  the  background  are  architec- 
tural ruins  which  give  the  picture  the  same  decorative 
quality  as  some  of  Weenicx's.  There  is  another  in  the 
same  museum,  of  dead  game,  with  a  dead  hare,  and  birds, 
a  gun  and  other  hunting  implements ;  and  there  is  here, 
too,  another  one,  in  the  style  of  Otto  Marseus  van 
Schrieck,  with  plants,  toadstools,  birds  and  insects,  all  at 
the  base  of  a  tree  trunk.  The  National  Gallery  of  Lon- 
don possesses  a  similar  painting.  In  Brunswick  there 
is  a  still-life  with  fish.  In  Dresden,  another  with  hunt- 
ing-pieces. The  Schwerin  GaUery  has  a  painting  of 
dead  poultry.  These  are  sufficient  examples  to  show 
Hondekoeter  as  a  painter  of  real  still-hfe,  and  a  versa- 
tile one  at  that. 

The  popularity  of  Hondekoeter  never  died.  He  was 
imitated  in  each  succeeding  period  of  Dutch  art.  Aert 
Schoimian  whose  life  spanned  nearly  the  whole  eight- 
eenth century  (1710-1792)  imitated  the  master's  style  in 
his  day,  and  in  the  nineteenth  century  the  versatile  Maria 
Vos  revived  it. 

One  other  name  must  be  mentioned  before  closing  this 
brief  account  of  the  painters  of  fur  and  feathers — that 
of  Cornelius  Lelienbergh,  of  The  Hague  (flourished 
1646-  after  1672).  Most  of  the  painters  just  men- 
tioned were  chiefly  interested  in  the  decorative  effect  of 

[67] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

their  pictures,  but  Lelienbergh,  more  like  Fyt  than  any 
of  the  rest,  devoted  himself  to  the  simple  beauty  of  plum- 
age. The  Ryks  Museum  of  Amsterdam  possesses  four  of 
his  works ;  they  are  all  still-lives  with  dead  birds — a  dead 
parrot,  or  snipe,  or  chickens.  A  very  charming  example 
is  in  the  Wilstach  Collection  in  Philadelphia,  and  it 
should  be  noted  in  passing  that  this  small  collection  is, 
for  its  size,  exceedingly  rich  in  Dutch  still-lives,  having 
examples  by  Peter  Claesz,  Weenicx,  Snyders,  Adriaan 
van  Utrecht,  Hondekoeter,  Fyt  (these  last  two  rather 
poor,  however)  and  Abraham  van  Beyeren.  The  picture 
by  Lelienbergh,  dated  1654,  shows  a  dead  pigeon  hang- 
ing by  a  windowsill,  while  nearby  are  lying  several  dead 
finches.  The  delicacy  with  which  these  little  birds  are 
painted  cannot  be  described,  but  the  chief  beauty  of  the 
picture  consists  in  its  fine  luminosity.  The  colors  are 
soft,  yet  rich,  with  olive  and  amber  tones  predominating. 
It  is  one  of  the  finest  pictures  in  the  Wilstach  Collec- 
tion. Lelienbergh  was  not  alone  in  loving  to  paint  the 
smaller  feather- folk ;  Fonk — although  not  well-known — 
has  left  us  some  extraordinary  refined  still-lives,  and 
this  tradition  was  continued  in  the  eighteenth  century 
by  a  school  of  painters  in  Dordrecht. 

Ill 

Fruit  and  Flowers 

Flower  painting,  strictly  speaking,  can  hardly  be 
called  still-life  painting.  Even  though  we  use  the  French 
translation  of  the  term,  nature  morte,  we  are  using  a 
misnomer  for  flower  painting.    For  flowers  ought  cer- 

[68] 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

tainly  to  be  alive  as  the  painter  studies  them,  and  they 
ought  to  look  alive  in  the  picture,  and  as  for  being 
"still,"  let  anyone  try  to  paint  a  vase  of  poppies  and  he 
will  see  the  petals  droop  and  fall,  one  by  one,  before  the 
picture  is  half  finished. 

But  fruit  is  certainly  still-life  (the  term  is  a  bad  one 
in  any  sense)  whether  it  be  nature  morte  or  not,  and  fruit 
is  so  frequently  combined  with  flowers  in  pictures  that 
one  can  scacely  omit  pictures  of  this  kind  from  a  study 
of  still-life  painting. 

Of  the  many  kinds  of  still-life  pictures  fruit  and 
flower  pieces  have  always  been  the  most  popular.  They 
appeal  to  the  greatest  number  of  people.  There  are  some 
persons,  sensitive  to  associations,  who,  against  their  bet- 
ter judgment  cannot  overcome  their  prejudice  to  raw 
beef;  there  are  others  who,  while  admiring  the  plumage 
of  birds  and  the  fur  of  animals,  prefer  them  alive  to 
dead;  there  are  others,  again,  who  cannot  perceive  the 
aesthetic  qualities  of  pots  and  pans.  But  who  ever  ob- 
jects to  fruit  and  flowers? 

It  takes  less  effort  perhaps  to  enjoy  a  picture  of  lus- 
cious fruit,  oranges  half  peeled,  displaying  their  juicy 
insides,  or  of  a  vase  of  flowers — white  roses  and  jasmine 
for  example — ^than  it  does  to  enjoy  a  picture  of  pots  and 
pans,  but  it  also  takes  less  of  an  effort  to  paint  them. 
That  is,  to  make  a  likeable  picture  of  them.  I  recall 
a  story  told  of  a  modern  American  landscape  painter. 
He  was  a  painter  of  prosaic  scenes ;  he  loved  empty  fields 
with  deserted  barns  against  a  leaden  sky,  but  with  these 
he  produced  some  of  the  most  poetic  landscapes  in  Amer- 
ican art.    Asked  one  time  why  he  did  not  use  more  ro- 

[69] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

mantic  subjects,  or  choose  scenes  more  obviously  pic- 
turesque, he  repHed,  "Do  you  mean  why  don't  I  paint 
villages  churches  with  their  spires  peering  above  the 
trees  and  lonely  httle  cottages  nestled  in  their  shade? 
Any  damned  fool  can  make  pictures  like  that!" 

To  find  beauty  in  the  commonplace  requires  a  more 
piercing  eye,  a  keener  appreciation  of  what  beauty  is. 
A  bouquet  of  flowers  is  obviously  beautiful,  a  bowl  of 
fruit  scarcely  less  so.  But  we  can  have  real  flowers, 
infinitely  more  lovely  than  painted  ones,  any  time  we 
wish,  upon  our  table  or  on  our  shelves,  while  bowls  of 
real  fruit  are  as  easily  obtained.  Here  is  a  problem 
that  faces  the  fruit  and  flower  painter  and  makes  it  ex- 
traordinarily difiicult  for  him  to  make  a  really  distin- 
guished picture. 

The  artistic  value  of  fruit  and  flower  still-lives  has 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  intrinsic  qualities  of 
these  things.  Nothing  is  more  stupid  than  a  painted 
imitation  of  a  bouquet — and  there  are  so  many  of  them 
on  the  market,  in  our  homes  and  museums.  But  the 
merit  of  a  still-hf e  with  flowers  consists  in  an  interpreta- 
tion of  them — in  an  arrangement  of  line,  mass  and  color, 
the  same  interpretation  that  must  be  made  of  any  still- 
life  group,  so  that  artistically  there  is  no  difference 
whatever  between  a  good  flower  piece  and  a  good  canvas 
of  pots  and  pans.  The  painter  of  fruit  and  flowers  has 
therefore  to  beware,  lest  the  beholder  exclaim,  "I  would 
rather  have  the  originals — the  fruit  to  behold  and  to  eat, 
and  the  flowers  to  smell!" 

After  all,  the  painter  of  fruit  and  flowers  cannot  con- 
fine himself  to  these  mere  things.    He  is  forced  to  place 

[70] 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

them  against  a  background,  and  on  a  support — they 
cannot  hang  in  empty  space.  What  is  that  background 
going  to  be?  This  is  often  a  more  difficult  problem  than 
the  choice  of  subject.  He  must  also  select  his  combina- 
tion; if  he  chooses  roses,  what  sort  of  fruit  would  go 
well  with  them;  is  his  scheme  to  be  one  of  brilUant  con- 
trast, or  one  of  harmonious  tones  in  one  key;  in  other 
words,  what  is  to  be  his  range?  These  are  questions 
which  the  still-life  painter  must  consider,  and  which  in- 
volve him  in  complications  which  the  average  beholder 
never  takes  into  account. 

The  best  still-life  pictures  are  not  casual  copies — 
however  natural  they  may  appear — but  the  result  of 
careful  study  on  the  part  of  the  artist. 

Daniel  Seghers  of  Antwerp  (1590-1661)  was  the  first 
notable  painter  of  flowers  in  the  Low  Countries.  He 
had  predecessors,  among  them  being  his  master  Jan 
Breughel  or  "Velvet"  Breughel,  son  of  the  famous 
Pieter,  who,  however,  did  not  begin  flower  painting  until 
1608,  and  Ambrosius  Bosschaert  (Antwerp  circa  1565 
— The  Hague  1621) .  Breughel's  garlands  were  smooth 
and  hard  and  stiff;  Seghers'  flowers  were  fresh,  glisten- 
ing, delicate  in  texture,  more  life-like.  Bosschaert's  were 
more  in  the  primitive  style  of  Breughel.  A  picture  of 
his  in  The  Hague  Museum  shows  a  bouquet  of  flowers  in 
a  window ;  behind  it  a  landscape.  The  effect  is  like  glass 
or  enamel. 

Breughel  and  Seghers  were  led  to  flower  painting  by 
surrounding  their  portrait  medallions  of  saints  and  ma- 
donnas with  garlands.  It  is  interesting  to  notice  how 
this  branch  of  still-life  painting,  like  still-lives  of  kitchen 

[71] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

things,  began  by  being  subservient  to  a  figure  subject. 
An  example  of  his  art  in  the  Antwerp  Museum,  is  en- 
titled "St.  Ignatius,"  where  the  saint,  in  a  tiny  medal- 
lion, is  lost  behind  the  gigantic  frame  of  flowers. 

The  garlands  and  festoons  of  Seghers  were  doubtless 
derived  from  Italian  art.  Garlands  of  fruit  as  well  as 
of  flowers  were  favorite  decorations  of  Mantegna  and 
Carlo  Crivelli.  They  were  used  as  early  as  the  primitive 
Antonio  da  Negroponte;  but  these  painters  in  turn 
found  such  motives  in  Florentine  sculpture  and  in  the 
antique;  hence  the  origin  of  flower  and  fruit  garlands 
must  be  sought  in  classic  art. 

Seghers,  like  most  of  the  Antwerp  painters  who  were 
influenced  too  much  for  their  good  by  Italian  art,  fell 
into  bad  taste.  When  ornament  crowds  a  picture,  the 
result  is  vulgar,  like  too  much  jewelry  on  an  ugly 
woman.  Seghers,  however,  paved  the  way  for  a  host  of 
flower  painters  greater  than  himself. 

He  had  pupils  who  followed  his  style,  like  the  German 
EUiger,  but  it  is  to  Holland  we  must  look  for  the  origin 
of  real  flower  painting. 

Jan  Davidszoon  de  Heem  (1606-1684)  was  both 
Flemish  and  Dutch,  as  he  was  bom  in  Utrecht,  worked 
there  half  his  life,  but  died  in  Antwerp.  His  father, 
David  de  Heem  (1570-1632)  was  a  fruit  and  flower 
painter  of  Utrecht  to  whom  has  been  given  the  credit  by 
some  writers  on  Dutch  painting,  on  what  authority  is 
not  stated,  of  being  the  father  of  still-life  painting.  Ap- 
parently it  was  not  known  that  Ambrosius  Bosschaert 
was  working  in  Utrecht  as  early  as  1616,  and  Jacob  Vos- 
maer  of  Delft  (his  dates  are  1584-1641)  at  about  the 

[72] 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

same  time.  If  David  de  Heem  were  the  father  of  any- 
thing, it  was  of  the  de  Heem  style,  practised  by  a  whole 
dynasty  of  de  Heems.  His  son  Jan  was  the  greatest  of 
the  family,  for  he  was  one  of  the  rare  men  in  the  Dutch 
and  Flemish  school  to  understand  the  spirit  of  still-life 
painting.  Like  Weenicx  of  whom  we  have  spoken,  and 
van  Huysum  and  Kalff  of  whom  we  shall  speak  later, 
he  was  a  magician  who  could  create  a  world  of  enchant- 
ment out  of  his  materials.  In  his  hands  porcelain  bowls, 
golden  dishes,  plates,  oranges,  grapes,  apples,  flowers 
of  all  kinds,  beset  by  flies  and  beetles,  became  Hke  a  set- 
ting of  jewels,  bright,  dazzling,  lustrous,  rich  and  won- 
derful. This  was  his  aim,  to  bring  together,  to  arrange, 
compose  and  illuminate  objects  which  were  pleasing  in 
themselves,  attractive  to  the  senses  and  stimulating  to 
the  imagination;  but  his  magic  touch,  his  perfect  tech- 
nique, combined  with  his  good  taste,  made  them  richer 
and  more  beautiful  than  a  setting  of  crown  jewels  could 
be.  One  example  of  his  work  hangs  in  the  Dresden 
Museum.  On  a  table  rests  an  upturned  bowl  filled  and 
overflowing  with  fruit — grapes,  half-peeled  oranges, 
apples  and  cherries,  while  from  above  dangle  temptingly 
more  grapes  with  their  rich  green  leaves.  This  is  a  more 
tasteful  arrangement  than  many  of  his  still-lives.  In 
spite  of  its  numerous  details,  the  lighting  and  interest 
are  concentrated  on  the  overturned  bowl.  But  the  same 
tasteful  arrangement  cannot  be  claimed  for  the  example 
in  the  Metropolitan  Museum,  New  York*  (Fig.  29). 
This  latter  picture  technically  is  a  masterpiece.  It  repre- 

4  Assigned  to  de  Heem;  possibly  by  one  of  the  lesser  members  of  the 
family. 

[78] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

sents  the  rich  man's  table,  spread  with  costly  food  and 
vessels.  Our  attention  is  attracted  first  of  all  to  the 
white  linen  tablecloth,  which  is  shoved  back  over  one 
corner,  revealing  a  dark  cloth  beneath.  This  is  an  unfor- 
tunate, because  conspicuous,  caprice.  Moreover,  the 
table  has  too  many  different  groups.  One  does  not  know 
whether  to  admire  most  the  highly  finished  objects  of  the 
goldsmith's  art,  the  glass  beakers  of  wine,  the  basket  of 
fruit,  the  lobster,  or  the  arm  chair,  cluttered  like  the 
table,  with  plates  and  pitchers.  And  for  what  reason, 
we  ask,  is  the  clumsy  clock  introduced?  We  feel  on  the 
whole  that  the  composition  is  a  tour  de  force  on  the  part 
of  the  artist  to  show  us  his  skill  in  minute  detail. 

An  example  of  his  simpler  compositions  is  also  in  the 
Metropolitan  Museum,  New  York  (Fig.  30).  The  pic- 
ture is  a  small  one,  and  consists  only  of  a  large  glass  gob- 
let of  wine,  a  few  oysters,  a  slice  of  lemon,  and  one  bunch 
of  grapes,  all  on  a  table  covered  by  a  cloth.  The  color 
scheme  is  a  tonality  in  gold,  yellow  and  brown.  In  his 
coloring  he  was  more  Flemish  than  Dutch  in  that  he 
showed  the  brilliance  and  luminosity  of  Rubens  and 
Snyders  rather  than  the  tonality  of  Brouwer  or  Ter- 
borch. 

One  of  de  Heem's  most  magnificent,  and  at  the  same 
time  most  characteristic  pictures  is  in  the  Dresden  Royal 
Museum.  It  shows  us  a  still-life  combined  with  a  land- 
scape. In  the  foreground  is  a  vast  collection  of  fruit, 
melons  of  various  sorts,  yellow,  green  and  striped, 
grapes,  berries  and  nuts.  Plants  are  growing  in  the 
foreground — a  thistle  is  conspicuous  in  the  distance. 
Grape  and  melon  leaves  abound  in  profusion.    Behind 

[74] 


ABRAHAM  MIGNON,  STILL-LIFE 

RYKS    MUSEUM,    AMSTERDAM 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

the  group  of  fruit  is  the  trunk  of  a  twisted  tree,  on  one  of 
the  branches  of  which  a  httle  bird  has  perched.  But- 
terflies hover  about.  In  one  corner  of  the  picture  on  the 
ground,  is  a  bird's  nest  with  two  eggs  in  it,  while  a  dead 
bird  Hes  nearby.  The  composition  is  elaborate  but  uni- 
fied. The  interest  centers  where  the  light  strikes  the 
large  melon  in  the  centre.  The  whole  picture  scintillates 
with  light  and  color.  The  artist's  whim  to  place  this 
choice  collection  in  so  romantic  a  spot  is  altogether  de- 
lightful. De  Heem  is  a  wizard,  indeed,  who  with  his 
still-lives  presents  to  us  an  enchanted  world.  De  Heem's 
own  country,  Holland,  is  rich  in  examples  of  his  work, 
and  Amsterdam  and  The  Hague  possess  examples  of 
his  flower  pieces.  Perhaps  it  was  by  his  simple  decora- 
tive flower  studies  that  he  has  wielded  most  influence. 
In  these  the  backgrounds  are  generally  black,  the  flowers 
being  richly  relieved  against  them.  These  decorations 
are  becoming  popular  again  in  our  own  day. 

De  Heem  was  the  greatest  of  the  large  family  of 
de  Heems,  of  whom  there  were  no  less  than  six  (David 
the  Elder,  David  Davidszoon,  David  the  Younger,  Jan, 
Jan  the  Younger,  and  Comelis),  a  dynasty  of  still- 
life  painters.  Undoubtedly  the  prolixity  of  this  family 
had  much  to  do  with  their  fame.  Besides  these  there  were 
many  pupils,  among  whom  were  Elias  van  den  Broeck, 
Maria  van  Oosterwijk,  Abraham  Mignon  and  Pieter  de 
Ringh.  In  Flanders  Jacob  van  Es  and  Adriaan  van 
Utrecht  may  be  mentioned  as,  in  a  sense,  followers  of 
the  school. 

But  the  best  was  Pieter  de  Ringh  of  Leiden  (1615- 
1660).     Very  few  still-life  painters  surpassed  him  in 

[75] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

harmony  of  coloring.  There  is  a  fine  example  of  his 
work  in  the  Ryks  Museum,  Amsterdam  (Fig.  31) .  As 
with  the  de  Heem  in  New  York,  there  is  a  table  in  front 
of  a  column  with  a  huge  curtain  held  up  by  a  cord  for  a 
background.  This  gives  us  the  palatial  setting.  On  the 
table  spread  by  a  rich  cloth  is  the  collection  of  fruit  and 
other  dainties  suitable  for  a  grand  repast.  The  fruit 
is  piled  in  baskets  in  pyramidal  form,  the  back  and  apex 
of  the  pyramid  being  a  large  golden  urn.  There  are 
peaches,  oranges  and  grapes,  with  grape  leaves  plenti- 
fully interspersed,  relieving  the  brilliant  yellows  and 
oranges  with  their  cool  green.  A  lobster  is  conspicuous 
at  the  base,  to  give  a  broad  mass  of  color  in  contrast  to 
the  smaller  spots.  The  ensemble  is  rich,  voluptuous, 
magnificent,  as  the  artist  intended  it  to  be. 

Abraham  Mignon  (1640-1679)  was  another  worthy 
pupil  of  de  Heem  (Figs.  33  and  34).  Although  a  Ger- 
man by  birth  he  worked  nearly  all  his  life  in  Holland. 
There  are  several  fine  pictures  by  him  in  the  Ryks 
Museum  of  Amsterdam  in  the  style  of  his  master,  which 
show  that  flowers  were  as  interesting  to  him  as  fruit,  and 
that  he  could  do  either  by  themselves,  or  in  happy  com- 
binations with  pitchers,  plates  and  goblets.  Compared 
with  de  Heem,  however,  he  is  rather  dry  and  tiresome. 

But  with  Jan  van  Huysum  of  Amsterdam  (1682- 
1749)  we  come  to  an  original  genius  who  surpassed  in 
one  sense  all  who  came  before  him  as  a  fruit  and  flower 
painter.  Too  young  to  be  a  pupil  of  de  Heem — his  only 
master  as  far  as  we  know  was  his  father,  Justus  van 
Huysum — he  was  nevertheless  inspired  by  the  Utrecht 
master.    In  his  own  day,  he  was  perhaps  the  most  highly 

[76] 


^  d 

K-' 

^f^^^SS^m     "^^^^^Sm 

i. 

^^^■^^^■^y^v A|^y  h^^i 

>'^:;i^  ^  r   ^2 

^^.( 

r^'"' 

ABRAHAM  MIGNON,  FLOWERS 

RYKS    MUSEUM,    AMSTERDAM 

DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

prized  of  all  the  fruit  and  flower  painters.  He  was  the 
first  to  paint  successfully  flowers  against  a  white  or  a 
golden  background.  He  has  all  the  magic  of  de  Heem, 
his  richness,  his  fantasy,  his  deHcacy,  but  not  his  volup- 
tuousness. He  is  a  far  more  tasteful  painter,  with  more 
restraint,  a  more  refined  sense  of  the  limitations  of  a 
single  picture,  a  better  understanding  of  what  a  still- 
life  ought  to  express.  His  compositions  are  less  gran- 
diose; many  of  them  are  in  fact  very  simple  although 
they  are  always  minute  to  the  point  of  being  painful. 

One  of  his  fruit  pictures  is  in  the  Louvre  (Fig  35) .  It 
shows  us  a  marble  table  cluttered  with  fruit  and  flowers, 
apparently  out  in  a  garden,  for  behind  and  overhead  is 
the  dark  foliage  of  trees,  while  to  one  side  is  a  marble  urn. 
This  suggestion  of  the  palace  garden  is  exceedingly  ap- 
propriate as  a  background  for  the  rich  display  before 
us,  while  at  the  same  time  it  appeals  to  our  imagination 
in  a  much  more  subtle  way  than  de  Heem's  landscape 
settings  do.  But  the  fruit  and  flowers  take  up  most 
of  the  picture,  and  they  are  so  brilliantly  lighted  that 
there  is  no  wavering  of  attention.  No  artist  has  suc- 
ceeded better  than  van  Huysum  in  combining  fruit  and 
flowers.  His  ingenuity  in  contrasting  light  fruit  against 
dark,  small  shapes  against  large,  so  there  could  be  no 
monotony  of  form,  astounds  us.  He  does  not  depend 
upon  variety  of  objects  for  his  variety,  as  a  lesser  artist 
would  do,  but  attains  this  by  making  bold  use  of  his 
stems  of  grapes,  their  leaves  and  tendrils,  by  a  few 
flowers,  rightly  placed. 

Another  one  in  the  Ryks  Museum,  Amsterdam  ( Fig. 
36) ,  is  similar  in  style  to  that  in  the  Louvre,  save  that  the 

[77] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

display  of  fruit  is  on  a  table  with  a  neutral  background. 
Bunches  of  grapes  are  again  the  chief  interest,  with 
their  lustrous  green  and  white  surfaces,  while  grape 
leaves  with  well-designed  stems,  and  larger  fruit  such  as 
oranges,  give  contrast  and  variety.  The  effect  is  above 
all  rich,  bright,  scintillating  with  light  and  color. 

There  is  a  criticism  which  must  be  made  of  van  Huy- 
sum  as  a  flower  painter  which  applies  in  a  greater  or 
lesser  degree  to  all  Dutch  flower  painters.  Reference 
has  been  made  already  to  his  painful  minuteness.  This 
minuteness  was  apt  to  result  in  a  crispness  and  hardness 
which  flowers  should  not  have.  Flowers  are  above  all 
else  soft  in  texture,  and  so  delicate  as  to  defy  precision. 
It  cannot  be  said  that  the  Dutch  flower  painters  were 
successful  with  textures. 

The  van  Huysum  type  of  still-life  was  imitated  by 
Conrad  Roepel  (1678-1748),  a  painter  who  was  very 
prolific  but  not  altogether  original.  He  continued  the 
school  long  into  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  fame  of  Jan  van  Huysum  might  be  justly  con- 
trasted with  that  of  Willem  van  Aelst.  While  the  for- 
mer may  be  more  celebrated^,  certainly  the  latter  is 
equally  distinguished;  he  is  even  more  prized  by  col- 
lectors today.  Willem  van  Aelst  of  Delft  (1626-1679) 
was  a  pupil  of  his  uncle  Evert  van  Aelst  of  Delft 
(1602?-1657?),  a  painter  of  dead  game,  and  of  Otto 
Marseus  van  Schrieck  (1619/20-1678).  This  interest- 
ing succession  of  still-life  painters  is  worth  noting,  as 
showing  the  great  variety  of  still-life  that  was  being 
tried  in  Holland.  Otto  Marseus  painted  foregrounds 
full  of  plants,  among  which  crawled  lizards  and  snakes, 

[78] 


JAN  VAN  HUYSUM,  FRUIT  AND  FLOWERS 

RYKS  MUSEUM,  AMSTERDAM 


RACHEL   RUYSCH,   FLOWERS 

RYKS   MUSEUBI,  AMSTERDAM 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

while  butterflies  hovered  about  the  flowers.  His  pupil, 
Willem  van  Aelst,  was  the  master  in  turn  of  Rachel 
Ruysch,  who  borrowed,  like  Huysum,  Marseus'  forest 
foregrounds  with  plants  and  insects. 

There  are  two  pictures  in  the  Mauritzhuis,  The 
Hague,  which  should  place  Willem  van  Aelst  very  high 
as  a  still-life  painter.  One  is  a  hunting  piece  with  dead 
game.  The  coloring  is  fresh  as  if  not  a  day  old,  with 
delicate  touches  of  red,  brown  and  ochre  enlivening  the 
even  grey  tone  of  the  whole.  A  minute  touch  is  shown  in 
the  fly  on  the  bird's  wing;  but  the  effect  is  not  meticu- 
lous. The  other  picture  is  a  flower  piece  in  the  style  of 
de  Heem,  but  given  an  individuality  by  a  rich  orange 
marguerite  in  the  centre  of  the  composition.  In  these 
two  still-lives  Willem  van  Aelst  shows  himself  to  be  a 
tonahst  of  the  first  rank,  and  a  technician  as  skillful  as 
Dou.  In  fact  one  might  well  call  him  the  Gerard  Dou 
of  pure  still-hfe  painting. 

Rachel  Ruysch  (1664-1750)  (Fig.  38)  was  one  of  the 
first  women  to  gain  renown  in  the  field  of  art.  The  Dutch 
school  of  fruit  and  flower  painting  may  be  said  to  have 
culminated  in  her.  She  was  for  a  time  court  painter  to 
the  Count  Palatine  and  worked  for  him  at  Diisseldorf. 
It  seems  that  this  type  of  picture — the  rich  and  elaborate 
collection  of  things  pleasant  to  the  eye  and  to  the  taste, 
was  especially  admired  by  princes  and  great  lords. 
Maria  van  Oosterwijk  (1630-1693)  before  mentioned, 
a  pupil  of  the  great  de  Heem,  worked  for  such  poten- 
tates as  Louis  XIV  of  France,  the  Emperor  Leopold, 
Wilham  III  of  England,  and  the  king  of  Poland. 

Both  these  women,  although  good  technicians  and  in- 

[79] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

genious  composers  had  little  originality.  Ruysch's 
pictures  are  in  the  style  of  de  Heem  and  van  Huysum. 
One  of  her  works  in  the  Pinakothek  at  Munich  pictures 
a  collection  of  melons  and  fruit  at  the  base  of  a  gnarled 
tree,  in  a  landscape.  There  are  butterflies  and  bird's- 
nests  of  de  Heem,  but  the  mass  is  disorganized,  and  her 
shapes  unfortunate.  Her  art  is  like  her  period,  the 
eighteenth  century  in  art,  as  we  found  in  other  branches 
of  still-life  painting,  a  mere  reflection  of  what  is  past. 

But,  luckily  for  us,  the  succession  of  fruit  and  flower 
painters  was  never  interrupted  in  Holland.  Van  Huy- 
sum had  two  imitators,  at  least,  in  Margareta  Haver- 
man  (1720-1791),  whose  microscopic  minuteness  is  be- 
yond description,  and  Jan  van  Os  who  lived  from  1744 
to  1808,  and  who  therefore  carried  the  style  into  the 
nineteenth  century.  His  daughter,  Margarita  van  Os 
(1780-1863),  had  some  reputation  as  a  flower  painter, 
but  she  was  completely  overshadowed  by  Maria  Vos  of 
Oosterbeek  who  revived  the  glory  of  the  seventeenth 
century  still-life  painters.  She  was,  however,  a  versa- 
tile genius,  and  is  best  known,  not  for  her  flower  pieces, 
but  for  her  dead  fowl  with  baskets  and  natural  back- 
grounds somewhat  in  the  style  of  Fyt,  or  for  her  por- 
celain. Delft  and  metal  vases  with  fruit  in  the  style  of 
Kalff. 


[80] 


ABRAHAM  VAN  BEYEREN,  FLOWERS 

RYKS   MUSEUM,  AMSTERDAM 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

IV 
Herring  and  Wine 

It  is  a  constant  enigma  to  us  moderns  how  in  the  sev- 
enteenth century  separate  schools  of  painting  with  in- 
dividual local  styles  could  develop  in  little  towns  scarce 
an  hour's  journey  apart.  Haarlem  today  seems  like  a 
suburb  of  Amsterdam;  it  is  only  twenty  minutes  in  the 
train,  and  yet  here  a  school  of  still-life  painters  worked 
and  produced  pictures  quite  distinct  from  any  others 
we  have  yet  studied.  Pieter  Claesz  (about  1590-1661), 
Willem  Claesz  Heda  (1594-after  1679),  and  his  son 
Gerrit  Willemz  Heda  (1642-1702),  were  the  principal 
painters  of  this  school ;  others  were  Willem  Kalff ,  Franz 
Hals  the  Younger  (1617-166&),  Pieter  Roestraten 
(1630-1698),  Claes  van  Heussea  (fl.  1626),  whose 
works  are  very  rare,  and  Roelof  Claosz  Koets  (fl.  1642) . 
Willem  Gabron  (1619-1678),  although  of  Antwerp, 
also  painted  in  the  style  of  Claesz  and  Heda.  "Break- 
fasts" their  pictures  are  often  called,  but  this  term  does 
not  sufficiently  describe  them.  A  simple  repast  like  a 
breakfast  is  often  portrayed,  but  the  combination  of 
food  and  drink  displayed  seems  sometimes  impossible  for 
a  breakfast.  And  more  often  than  not  the  simplicity  of 
the  repast  seems  inadequate,  as  when  it  consists  of  a 
slice  of  bread  and  a  lemon.  There  is  a  picture  by  Pieter 
Claesz,  formerly  in  the  van  Oldenbamevelt  Collection, 
Holland,  now  in  the  Wilstach  Collection,  Philadelphia 
(Fig.  40),  which  shows  us  a  table  set  with  a  plate  of 
sliced  herring,  a  large  bumper  of  beer,  a  coffee  pot,  a 
glass  of  Rhine  wine,  two  rolls  of  bread,  a  dish  of  green 

[81] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

vegetables,  a  pipe  and  a  tobacco  box.  The  herring  is 
certainly  meant  for  breakfast — ^Dutch  herring!  What 
wonderful  memories  they  evoke  I — and  the  pipe  is  meant 
for  the  after-breakfast  smoke  in  the  good  old  times  when 
one  did  not  rush  off  for  business.  Let  us  hope  the  beer, 
wine  and  coffee  were  not  for  the  same  person  to  drink. 

If  Claesz'  pictures  are  breakfasts,  then  various  wines 
and  beers  were  popular  in  Holland  early  in  the  morn- 
ing. In  one  of  his  still-lives  in  the  Ryks  Museum,  Ams- 
terdam, there  are  several  drinking  vessels,  a  glass  goblet 
with  wine,  a  mug  with  a  lid  of  repousee  design,  a  silver 
plate,  and  a  partly  peeled  lemon  on  a  pewter  dish  with 
nuts.  A  more  nourishing  "breakfast"  is  portrayed  in 
another  still-Hfe  in  the  same  museum  (Fig.  41),  for  here 
on  the  table  lie,  on  pewter  dishes,  a  red  herring,  a  loaf  of 
bread  and  a  half  peeled  lemon,  while  beside  them  are  a 
pewter  salt  cellar,  a  large  beaker  of  ale  and  a  vine  branch 
in  the  background  for  a  fanciful  color  note.  A  Claesz  in 
Budapest  is  interesting  for  the  sliced  pie  which  is  intro- 
duced. His  picture  in  the  Mauritzhuis,  The  Hague,  is 
also  a  very  striking  one.  It  has  the  coloring  of  a  loaf 
of  bread! 

Never  again  shall  we  meet  with  this  humiUty,  this 
contentment  with  the  plainest  things  of  life,  as  subjects 
for  art,  until  we  come  to  Chardin,  and  the  great  Chardin, 
both  in  subject  matter  and  coloring  is  very  like  Claesz. 
Herein  lies  the  charm  of  these  still-lives.  They  seem  so 
casual,  so  commonplace,  so  matter-of-fact.  In  short, 
they  are  homely  affairs,  and  therefore  good  companions 
— comfortable.  Just  as  there  is  nothing  grandiose  about 
the  subjects,  there  is  nothing  glowing  nor  brilliant  about 

[82  1 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STHX-LIFE  PAINTING 

the  coloring.  In  contrast  to  the  Flemish  painters — 
Snyders  and  Fyt  for  example — who  loved  warmth  and 
glow — these  Haarlem  painters  sought  rather  subdued 
harmonies,  atmospheric  effects  and  blended  tones. 

Willem  Claesz  Heda  was  the  finest  of  the  Haarlem 
still-life  painters.  He  is  noted  for  his  taste  in  arranging 
herrings  with  silver  and  golden  vessels,  glasses,  cups  and 
lemons.  These  things  are  nearly  always  placed  on  a 
white  cloth,  and  the  whole  scheme  enveloped  in  a  grey 
tonality.  His  coloring  is  apt  to  be  a  trifle  too  metalUc — 
too  hard,  with  an  insistence  on  cold  greyish  purple  tones 
and  lacking  in  warm  golden  hues. 

A  fine  Heda  is  in  the  Dresden  Museum.  Its  compo- 
sition is  more  complex  than  is  usual  with  Claesz. 
Against  a  perfectly  bare  background — a  wall — is  the 
table,  with  its  white  cloth  partly  turned  back,  and  set 
with  the  following  articles:  a  large  glass  half  filled  with 
wine,  an  overturned  cake  dish,  a  plate  with  a  large  meat 
pie,  cut  open,  other  plates  and  other  glasses,  a  serving 
spoon  and  a  richly  sheathed  knife. 

Heda's  "Breakfast  Tables"  are  set  with  costly  ves- 
sels. While  impretentious  compared  with  the  fruit  and 
flower  pieces  of  de  Heem  and  van  Huysum,  Heda  loved 
to  offset  his  herring  with  elegant  and  rich  utensils. 

The  Heda  in  the  Ryks  Museum,  Amsterdam  (Fig. 
42) ,  shows  a  table  filled  with  drinking  utensils  of  pewter, 
silver  and  glass,  with  a  half -peeled  orange.  In  Budapest 
there  is  a  fine  example  of  his  work,  approaching  Kalff  in 
style.  The  composition  is  exceedingly  rich ;  a  table  cov- 
ered with  a  plush  cloth,  over  which  is  crumpled  a  piece  of 
white  linen,  is  laden  with  glasses  and  various  costly  table 

[83] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

utensils.  On  a  large  meat  platter  is  a  cut  ham..  This 
would  be,  indeed,  a  bounteous  breakfast  table. 

Heda  was  the  best  of  the  Haarlem  painters,  but  he 
was  not  the  most  celebrated  of  the  school  he  represents. 
Abraham  van  Beyeren  of  The  Hague  (1620-1675),  in 
reality  stands  in  a  class  by  himself,  as  the  greatest  master 
of  sea-fish  painters,  the  forerunner  of  VoUon  and  Chase. 
But  he  also  painted  breakfast  pieces,  hence  we  can  in- 
clude him  here.  Probably  no  Holland  still-life  painter 
attained  such  richness  with  harmony  of  color  as  he.  Fish, 
after  all,  are  wonderful  animals  as  far  as  coloring  is  con- 
cerned. Like  birds,  they  are  protected  by  nature  from 
their  enemies  and  given  colors  that  hide  them  in  their 
environment;  fish  have  all  the  iridescence  of  water. 

There  is  a  good  van  Beyeren  in  the  Metropolitan 
Museum,  New  York.  It  is  a  study  of  fish.  On  a  table 
one  sees  a  pile  of  fish,  large  and  small,  talbots,  sHced  sal- 
mon, and  crabs.  Some  are  in  a  basket,  others  are  scat- 
tered about.  The  background  is  neutral,  the  light  being 
concentrated  on  the  fish. 

Mrs.  William  L.  Elkins  of  Philadelphia  possesses  an 
example  of  this  master's  work  which  illustrates  his  rich- 
est style.  On  a  table  covered  with  a  blue  cloth  edged 
with  silver  fringe  is  a  wicker  basket,  holding  a  silver  dish 
filled  with  grapes,  peaches  and  figs.  On  the  left  of  this 
is  a  golden  beaker  and  a  silver  plate  with  a  ham;  behind 
this  again  is  a  Delft  stein  and  a  tall  Renaissance  cup. 
In  the  foregroimd  on  a  white  cloth  is  a  silver  tray  with  a 
lobster  and  two  Rhine  wine  glasses,  and  nearby  some 
oysters  and  a  small  loaf  of  bread.  This  bare  description 
gives  some  indication  of  the  variety  of  the  coloring  of 

[84] 


PIETER  CLAESZ,  "BREAKFAST  PIECE" 

RYKS   MUSEUM,  AMSTERDAM 


WILI.EM   CLAESZ   HEDA,  STILL-LIFE 

RYKS   MUSEUM,  AMSTERDAM 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

the  picture,  but  the  work  must  be  seen  if  its  glow  is  to  be 
appreciated.  And  this  glow,  this  luminosity,  is  the  chief 
charm  of  van  Beyeren.  It  can  be  compared  to  old  Flem- 
ish glass — so  mellow,  so  transparent — with  its  amber, 
citron,  russet  and  olive  tones. 

In  the  Widener  Collection,  also  in  Philadelphia,  there 
is  a  work  by  van  Beyeren,  in  the  painter's  rich  and  ele- 
gant style,  while  in  the  Wilstach  Collection,  Philadel- 
phia, is  a  characteristic  example  of  his  fish.  One  of  the 
best  van  Beyerens  is  in  the  Berlin  Museum.  On  a 
wooden  table  are  large  talbots,  sliced  salmons,  flounders 
and  crabs.  Behind,  giving  a  pyramidal  composition,  is  a 
brass  bucket.  This  is  less  elaborate  than  the  one  above 
described,  is  more  purely  a  study  of  fish  and  perhaps 
the  most  tasteful  example  of  the  master's  work. 

Willem  Kalff  of  Amsterdam  (1621  or  1622-1693) 
belongs,  also,  indirectly  to  the  Haarlem  school.  He  was 
the  most  celebrated  still-life  painter  of  Holland,  and 
for  that  matter  of  all  the  Low  Countries,  Flanders  in- 
cluded. Perhaps  his  fame  is  partly  due  to  the  Dutch 
poet  Vondel  who  immortalized  his  still-lives  in  charming 
verse.  But  he  deserves  it.  If  it  were  possible  ever  to 
say  one  man  is  the  supreme  master  of  his  art,  we  would 
say  Kalff  was  the  greatest  of  all  the  Dutchmen,  as  still- 
life  painters.  In  choice  of  subject,  arrangement,  light- 
ing, coloring,  tonality,  he  was  unsurpassed  by  any  of  his 
time. 

Kalif  chose  subjects  of  the  most  tasteful  character, 
objects  best  suited  for  still-life  painting.  With  pots  and 
pans,  and  market  produce,  Teniers  made  arrangements 
full  of  interesting  form  and  color.    With  animals  and 

[85] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

wild  fowl  Snyders  and  Fyt  and  Weenicx  made  rich  and 
colorful  canvases.  With  fruits  and  flowers  de  Heem 
and  van  Huysum  bewilder  us  with  their  wealth  of  detail. 
But  Kalff  gives  us  permanent  joy  by  his  superbly  deco- 
rative arrangement  of  richly  contrasted  color — blue  por- 
celain plates,  amber  colored  wine  glasses,  golden  vases — 
objects  which  would  be  the  envy  of  the  collector.  What- 
ever may  be  said  for  carrots  and  cabbages,  larders  well 
stocked  with  food  and  household  utensils — and  we  love 
all  these  things  with  their  associations — ^we  would  rather 
possess  rare  china,  golden  cups  and  Venetian  glass  I 

But  these  things  do  not  make  up  the  charm  of  Kalff's 
still-lives.  In  arrangement  Kalff  is  the  most  restrained 
of  all  the  still-life  painters.  We  have  said  that  crowd- 
ing too  many  objects  into  a  picture  was  a  fault 
to  which  still-life  painters  are  only  too  prone, 
and  oftentimes  painters  like  de  Heem  and  Rachel 
Ruysch  were  not  able  to  relate  and  unite  all  the 
elements  in  their  pictures.  Kalff  never  falls  into 
this  error.  He  does  not  care  for  tours  de  forcCj 
for  a  show  of  skill,  for  elaboration.  Next  to  Weenicx  he 
is  the  most  decorative  of  the  still-life  painters,  depending 
on  proper  spacing,  balance  of  forms,  and  rich  coloring. 
There  are  few  objects  in  his  pictures,  and  these  are 
generally  large  in  proportion  to  the  canvas,  and  well 
varied  as  to  relative  size  and  shape.  Lastly  we  must 
mention  his  light,  which  is  strong  and  concentrated  upon 
the  point  of  attention,  oftentimes  on  the  amber-colored 
wine  in  a  glass,  or  on  a  lemon,  showing  off  in  this  way 
the  brightest  note  in  his  color  arrangement.  As  an  Ams- 
terdam painter,  he  fell  under  the  influence  of  Rembrandt 

[86] 


■^ 

^^J^H^^^M^     , 

E^ 

^ 

GERRIT   WILLEMS   HEDA,   STILL-LIFE 

RYKS  MUSEUM,  AMSTERDAM 


WILLEM   KALFF,  STILL-LIFE 

RYKS   MUSEUM,  AMSTERDAM 


DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

— ^hence  oftentimes  his  superb  golden  tones  and  rich 
shadows.  His  coloring  is  much  like  Vermeer's;  one 
often  finds  the  same  preference  for  the  blue  and  yellow 
notes ;  in  many  ways,  indeed,  he  may  be  called  the  Ver- 
meer  of  still-life  painting. 

Pictures  by  Kalff  are  extremely  rare  and  valuable. 
The  best  one  is  in  the  Copenhagen  Museum.  Emil  Carl- 
sen,  who  knows  something  about  still-lives,  has  said  it  is 
the  finest  still-life  painting  existing  anywhere  in  the 
world.  The  one  in  the  Ryks  Museum,  Amsterdam  (Fig. 
44),  is  also  a  splendid  example.  It  has  all  the  qualities 
enumerated  above.  The  objects  are  arranged  against  a 
large,  plain  dark  background — ^no  curtain,  no  marble 
pillars,  no  view — nothing  to  disturb  the  main  interest. 
Conspicuous  on  the  table  is,  first,  a  silver  pitcher  repous- 
see  of  hydria  shape,  whose  poHshed  raised  surface  reflects 
a  beautiful  light.  Back  of  this,  or  rather  to  one  side,  is 
a  Chinese  porcelain  bowl  with  oranges  and  lemons,  and 
behind  the  pitcher  and  the  bowl,  in  the  center  of  the  com- 
position, is  a  tall,  yellow  goblet,  indistinct  in  the  shadow. 
On  the  oranges  in  the  foreground,  and  on  the  repoussee 
design  of  the  pitcher  the  Hght  is  concentrated.  The 
edge  of  the  table  shows  at  the  bottom  with  one  or  two 
fruit  leaves  to  break  the  straight  line.  With  these  few 
objects,  Kalff  has  given  us  a  decorative  scheme,  so  well 
balanced,  so  happily  designed,  so  rich  in  color  yet  deli- 
cate in  tone,  so  simple  and  dignified  that  many  of  the 
de  Heems,  de  Ringhs,  and  even  the  Snyders  seem  tawdry 
in  comparison.  Another  very  fine  Kalff,  and  similar  to 
the  above,  is  in  The  Hague  Museum.  From  the  first  one 


[87] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

is  struck  by  the  blue  porcelain  bowl  and  the  lemon — the 
coloring  of  Vermeer. 

In  the  Johnson  Collection  in  Philadelphia,  which,  by  the 
way,  includes  the  fine  "Slaughtered  Ox"  by  Rembrandt, 
is  one  of  the  more  elaborate  compositions  of  Kalff,  ap- 
proaching Heda  in  variety.  It  resembles  closely  another 
KalfP  in  the  Berlin  Museum.  In  this  we  see  again 
Kalff's  favorite  blue  porcelain  bowl,  his  half-peeled 
lemon,  and  his  wine  cups. 

Philadelphia  possesses  another  Kalff  in  the  Widener 
Collection,  one  of  his  very  restrained  and  simple  pic- 
tures. A  porcelain  plate  on  a  table  contains  apples  and 
lemons. 

Kalff's  influence  upon  subsequent  still-life  painters 
has  properly  and  naturally  been  very  great.  In  his  own 
day  Jan  Jans  Treck  (Amsterdam  1606-1652)  (Figs.  45 
and  47),  Simon  Luttichuys  (1610-1663)  and  Jurian 
van  Streeck  (1632-1678)  were  influenced  by  him. 
Pieter  Roestraten  carried  this  style  of  still-life  painting 
to  England.  Chardin,  the  great  Frenchman,  if  not  re- 
flecting Kalff,  at  least  reflects  the  Haarlem  "breakfast" 
style.  The  same  is  true  of  Velasquez.  These  men  were 
the  ones  who  said  the  final  word  for  Dutch  still-life 
painting,  who  perfected  this  art.  Had  it  not  been  for 
them,  it  is  doubtful  if  Dutch  still-life  painting  would 
have  maintained  the  prestige  that  it  has. 


[88] 


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F 

JAN  JANS  TRECK,  STILL-LIFE 

BUDAPEST    MUSEUM 

CHAPTER  4 
The  Vanitas  and  Bodegone  Painters  of  Spain 


CHAPTER  4 


Alonzo  Vasquez  (about  1550-aboxjt  1650) 

The  close  political  connection  between  Spain  and  the 
Netherlands  made  the  Dutch  and  Flemish  painters 
familiar  to  the  Spaniards.  The  sovereigns  of  Spain 
knew  the  value  of  Flemish  art  and  were  great  collectors 
of  the  primitives.  Perhaps  it  was  the  realism  mixed 
with  mysticism  which  we  find  in  the  primitive  school 
which  appealed  to  Spanish  taste.  Fortunately  for  art 
the  iconoclastic  tendencies  of  the  Reformation,  so  de- 
structive in  the  Low  Countries,  did  not  affect  the  Span- 
ish peninsula,  and  Spain  was  able  to  preserve  the  great 
altarpieces  of  the  religious  age. 

Flemish  tradition  was  not  merely  a  matter  of  con- 
noisseurship  upon  the  part  of  Spanish  patrons.  It  went 
to  the  roots  of  Spanish  art  itself.  Painters  like  Roger 
van  der.Weyden  and  Quentin  Matsys  served  as  models 
for  the  Spanish  primitives.  Even  in  the  Renaissance 
period,  when  the  influence  of  classicism  was  at  its  height, 
Flemish  influence  was  still  strong.    It  may  be  said  that 

[91] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

the  Spanish  painters  were  taught  the  Itahan  style  under 
the  tutelage  of  Netherland  masters. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century  three 
Dutchmen  were  among  the  leading  painters  of  Spain — 
Pieter  Kempenaer  (called  in  Spanish  Pedro  de  Cam- 
pana),  Ferdinand  Sturm  (Hernando  Sturmio  or  Des- 
turmes)  and  Franz  Fruter  (Francisco  Fruter).  These 
men  were  contemporary  with  Alonzo  or  Ildefonso  Vas- 
quez,  called  by  Pacheco,  the  Spanish  historian,  "The 
Father  of  Bodegones.'*  "Bodegones"  is  a  Spanish  word 
for  studio  pieces  with  genre  and  still-life.  Undoubtedly 
Vasquez  was  influenced  to  paint  such  scenes  by  the  genre 
pictures  of  the  Antwerp  school  with  which  he  was 
familiar.  He  was  a  sort  of  Netherland  Romanist.  But 
the  still-life  pictures  for  which  he  was  noted  seem  to  be 
lost,  unless  a  still-life  in  Budapest,  ascribed  to  him,  is 
really  his.  His  most  famous  picture  is  the  "Parable  of 
Lazarus  and  the  Rich  Man"  in  which  he  lavishes  the 
greatest  care  on  table  settings — goblets,  copper  flasks, 
rich  food  and  fruit  in  abundance.  He  is  thus  the  Pieter 
Aertz  or  Joachim  de  Beukelaer  of  Spain. 

II 

Velasquez  (1599-1660) 

It  is  a  singular  fact  that  the  work  of  Velasquez,  the 
greatest  Spanish  artist,  has  often  been  confused  with 
that  of  painters  of  the  Dutch  and  Flemish  schools;  that 
is,  pictures  by  Sustermans,  Terborch,  Franz  Hals  and 
Rubens  have  been  labelled  by  uncritical  collectors 
"Velasquez,"  but  never  have  Velasquez*  works  been 

[92] 


HUBERT  VAN  RAVESTEYN,  PIPES 

RYKS   MUSEUM,  AMSTERDAM 


'i'r 


THE  VANITAS  AND  BODEGONE  PAINTERS  OF  SPAIN 

confused  with  those  of  his  Spanish  contemporaries — 
Coello,  El  Greco,  Roelas,  or  Herrera. 

It  is  not  necessary,  however,  to  look  for  the  direct 
influence  of  any  Dutchman  upon  Velasquez.  We 
could  as  well  look  for  the  influence  of  Caravaggio.  The 
governing  impulse  of  the  art  of  the  seventeenth  century 
was  realistic,  and  it  is  a  striking  sign  of  the  genius  of 
Velasquez  that  he  was  aware  instinctively,  while  still  a 
youth,  of  the  tendencies  of  the  age  in  which  he  lived, 
while  his  contemporaries  of  his  own  land  were  not.  So 
that,  at  the  outset  of  his  career  it  seemed  as  though  he 
were  intended  to  belong  not  so  much  to  Spain  as  to  the 
whole  world. 

He  was  fortunate  in  his  master — ^the  man  who  after- 
ward became  his  father-in-law — Pacheco.  Velasquez* 
naturahstic  tendencies  were  in  direct  opposition  to  the 
classical  theories  approved  by  Pacheco;  yet  the  latter 
wisely  encouraged  his  pupil.  To  use  Pacheco's  own 
words,  so  often  quoted,  yet  most  appropriate  to  our  dis- 
cussion, "What  should  we  say  about  still-life  studies? 
It  is  clear  that  if  they  are  painted  as  my  son-in-law 
painted  them  (achieving  such  success  that  he  left  others 
far  behind)  they  are  worthy  of  great  commendation. 
With  these  studies  and  with  the  portraits  of  which  we 
have  spoken,  he  soon  achieved  a  true  copy  of  nature,  con- 
verting to  his  own  methods  the  minds  of  many  others 
who  were  influenced  by  his  example."^ 

The  impulse  to  paint  hodegones  may  have  come  from 
Francesco  Herrera  who  was  for  a  short  time  Velasquez* 
master,  for  Herrera  had  attained  some  celebrity  as  a 

iSentenach,  "Painters  of  the  School  of  Seville,"  p.  107. 

[98] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

painter  of  such  pictures,  but,  as  we  learn  from  Pacheco, 
Velasquez  owed  to  no  one  his  determination  to  master 
the  reality  of  things,  and  these  early  studies  were  his 
own  means  of  training  himself  for  the  end  he  had  in 
view. 

The  youthful  pictures  of  Velasquez  must  be  looked 
upon  in  this  light,  as  his  preparation  for  his  career.  While 
he  was  always  interested  in  the  still-Hfe  accessories  of 
his  pictures,  especially  in  his  genre  subjects,  his  hodegone 
period  lasted  only  until  about  1621 — up  to  his  first  visit 
to  Madrid,  yet,  if  we  judge  by  the  many  attributions, 
the  pictures  of  this  period  extant  are  numerous.  Palo- 
mino says :  "Velasquez,  in  his  early  days,  took  to  repre- 
senting with  singular  fancy  and  notable  genius,  beasts, 
birds,  fishes,  fishmarkets  and  tippling  houses,  with  per- 
fect imitation  of  nature."  We  have  no  pure  still-lives 
left  to  us.  Of  the  bodegones  now  known  to  be  his,  all 
have  figures  introduced,  but  merely  to  add  interest  to 
the  still-life. 

The  earliest  of  these  is  the  "Christ  in  the  House  of 
Mary  and  Martha"  in  the  National  Gallery,  London. 
Quite  in  the  Dutch  spirit,  the  prominence  is  given  to 
Martha,  who,  a  peasant  girl  type,  is  busy  with  mortar 
and  pestle  at  a  table  on  which  are  fish  and  onions.  Next 
in  chronological  order  is  perhaps  the  so-called  "Break- 
fast," formerly  in  the  Hermitage  Collection,  Petro- 
grad.  It  represents  a  table  at  which  a  man  and  two  boys 
are  dining.  It  is  evident  by  the  care  with  which  the 
tablecloth,  the  dish,  and  articles  of  food  are  painted  that 
these  things  are  the  chief  interest.  Like  this  last-men- 
tioned picture  is  "Two  Boys  Dining"  in  the  Collection 

[94] 


VELASQUEZ,  THE  OMELETTE  WOMAN 

IN   THE    COLLECTION    OF   SIR  FREDERICK    COOK,   BART. 
RICHMOND,  ENGLAND 


1 1  «    , 

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ra>»E'-.<^^ 

VELASQUEZ,  THE   STEWARD 

IK  THE   COLLECTION   OF  SIR  J.   C.  ROBINSON,  C.B. 


THE  VANITAS  AND  BODEGONE  PAINTERS  OF  SPAIN 

of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  Apsley  House,  England, 
which  is  principally  a  study  of  earthenware  dishes  and 
jars. 

Of  greater  interest  from  the  still-life  point  of  view  is 
Velasquez'  "Old  Woman  Cooking  Eggs"  or,  as  it  is 
also  called,  "The  Omelette"  in  the  Cook  Collection, 
Richmond  (Fig.  49) ,  where  there  is  an  elaborate  display 
of  cooking  utensils.  "The  Steward"  in  the  collection  of 
Sir  J.  C.  Robinson,  England,  is  another  such  picture 
(Fig.  50).  The  steward  stands  behind  a  great  table 
laden  with  fish,  poultry  and  other  food,  while  hanging 
from  the  ceiling  about  his  head  are  huge  cuts  of  meat. 

"The  Water  Carrier  of  Seville"  in  Apsley  House 
must  also  be  mentioned  in  this  group  because  it  is  the 
finest  and  most  justly  famous  of  the  period.  While  the 
figure  claims  the  greatest  attention  because  of  the  sym- 
pathetic rendering  of  an  aged  type,  the  prominence 
given  to  the  water  bottle — a  fine  study  of  the  texture  of 
earthenware — and  to  the  glass  of  water,  makes  it  a  true 
hodegone. 

All  of  these  pictures  have  similar  qualities,  in  being 
very  large,  with  life-sized  figures,  and  almost  mono- 
chromes. Velasquez,  at  this  period,  did  not  strive  for 
the  shimmering  effects  of  his  later  pictures;  he  was 
studying  values  and  struggling  for  an  uncompromising 
truthfulness  in  representing  what  he  saw.  By  these 
studies  he  became  finally  one  of  the  supreme  masters  of 
tone,  and  one  of  the  most  startlingly  realistic  figure 
painters  in  Europe.  Artists  themselves  have  never 
ceased  to  wonder  at  his  extraordinary  force.     His  in- 


[95] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

fluence  in  the  nineteenth   century   was   very   strong, 
especially  on  one  still-life  painter — Manet. 

Ill 

Vaudes  Leal  (1622-1690) 

Quite  a  different  still-hfe  painter  was  Don  Juan  de 
Valdes  Leal.  He  is  noted  for  two  large  "Vanitas"  pic- 
tures in  the  hospital  de  la  Caridad,  Seville.  Mention 
has  been  made  before  of  the  early  Flemish  Vanitas  pic- 
tures attributed  to  Quentin  Matsys  or  to  his  school. 
They  generally  contain  a  death's  head,  a  few  books,  a 
candlestick  and  sometimes  a  parchment  roll  with  the 
inscription  "Vanitas,"  the  obvious  meaning  being,  of 
course,  that  all  is  vanity,  even  the  wisdom  of  this  world. 

Valdes  Leal's  two  pictures  are  the  most  elaborate  in 
their  allegory  as  well  as  the  most  grandiose  things  of 
their  kind.  They  are  unique  in  art.  Painted  at  the 
height  of  his  career,  in  1672,  they  are  not  only  sumptuous 
and  rich  in  color  beyond  description,  but  they  are  exe- 
cuted in  a  masterly  way.  They  were  done  at  the  com- 
mand of  Don  Miguel  de  Maiiara,  a  man  who  repre- 
sented all  that  was  pessimistic  and  morbid  in  the  Spanish 
temperament.  Certainly  we  cannot  conceive  of  their 
having  been  painted  outside  of  Spain  (Figs.  51  and  52). 

One  is  called  "Allegory  of  Death."  It  shows  a  floor 
piled  high  with  books  of  every  description,  and  with 
pieces  of  armour — swords,  breastplates  and'  helmets. 
There  is  also  a  sceptre.  On  a  sort  of  platform  behind 
this  pile  is  a  papal  tiara,  a  crosier,  a  crown,  a  cardinal's 
hat  and  a  collar  of  the  Golden  Fleece.    A  papal  staff 

[96] 


JUAN  DE  VALDES  LEAL,  ALLEGORY  OF  DEATH 

IN    THE     HOSPITAL    DE    LA    CARIDAU,    SEVILLE 


JUAN  DE  VALDES  LEAI. 
ALLEGORY  OF  THE  BREVITY  OF  LIFE 

IN    THE     HOSPITAL    DE     LA     CARIDAD,    SEVILLE 


THE  VANITAS  AND  BODEGONE  PAINTERS  OF  SPAIN 

rests  against  the  platform.  In  the  background  is  a  huge 
candelabrum;  about  the  burning  flame  are  written  the 
words:  "In  ictu  oculi" — "In  a  wink  all  is  over."  But 
the  most  conspicuous  object  in  the  picture  is  a  huge  skel- 
eton, or  figure  of  Death,  trampling  upon  the  pile  of 
earthly  adornments.  Under  one  arm  it  carries  a  coffin 
and  a  scythe ;  with  the  other  it  points  to  the  inscription. 

Morbid  as  such  a  conception  is,  it  is  entirely  surpassed 
in  gruesomeness  by  its  companion  picture,  "Allegory  of 
the  Brevity  of  Life."  In  a  dark  burial  vault,  inhabited 
by  bats  and  owls,  stand  three  open  coffins,  two  of  which 
are  placed  together  in  the  foreground.  In  one  is  the 
body  of  a  bishop,  half  eaten  by  worms,  almost  a  skeleton ; 
in  the  other  is  the  body  of  a  knight.  The  bishop  clutches 
his  crosier,  the  knight  his  sword  and  shield.  Below,  on 
a  scroll,  are  the  words:  "Finis  Gloria  Mundi" — "Gone 
is  the  glory  of  the  world."  But  this  is  not  all.  From 
above,  out  of  clouds,  stretches  an  arm  holding  a  pair  of 
scales.  In  one  scale  are  symbols  of  earthly  folly — a  lit- 
tle dog,  a  peacock,  a  goat's  head  and  the  word  "Nimas" 
— "Not  more";  in  the  other  scale  are  the  symbols  of 
religious  life — a  Bible,  a  loaf  of  bread,  a  crucifix,  a  flam- 
ing heart  inscribed  I.  H.  S.,  and  the  word  "Nimenos" — 
"Not  less." 

Murillo,  when  he  saw  this  picture,  said  to  the  painter 
Leal,  "Comrade,  one  cannot  look  at  it  without  holding 
one's  nose." 


[97] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

IV 

Pekeda  (about  1608-1678) 

The  only  other  Spanish  painter  who,  as  a  creator  of 
Vanitas  pictures,  is  worthy  to  be  placed  alongside  of 
Valdes  Leal,  is  Antonio  Pereda  of  Madrid.  He  worked 
with  Velasquez  in  Madrid,  and  in  his  clear,  cool  colors 
reflects  the  great  master. 

There  are  signed  still-Hves  by  him  in  the  galleries  of 
Lisbon  and  Petrograd  (until  1914)  dated  1652-1653,  a 
Vanitas  in  the  Hofmuseum  of  Vienna,  and  one  attrib- 
uted either  to  him  or  to  Valdes  Leal  in  the  Stirling  Col- 
lection, England.  His  most  important  still-life,  how- 
ever, is  a  Vanitas  allegory  of  idleness,  called  "The 
Dream  of  a  Knight"  in  the  Madrid  Academy. 

The  knight  is  seated  beside  a  table  on  which  are  the 
things  of  his  dreams — symbols  of  every  sort  of  wealth — 
money,  jewels,  badges  of  knightly  orders,  pieces  of 
armour,  wreaths,  crowns,  mitres  and  tiaras,  but  also  the 
open  book  and  the  death's  head. 

Still-life  pictures  these  allegories  are;  figures,  to  be 
sure,  are  introduced,  but  there  is  no  action.  Yet  it  cannot 
be  said  the  Spanish  school  produced  any  great  still-life 
painting.  The  Vanitas  pictures  are  too  moralistic  to  be 
considered  examples  of  pure  art.  Velasquez'  hodegones 
answer  more  clearly  to  our  definition.  Still-life  paint- 
ing is  to  be  understood  from  the  art  of  men  like  Kalff , 
who,  without  recourse  to  figures  or  to  sentiment,  made 
use  of  mere  objects,  and,  purely  by  the  language  of  art 
gave  expression  to  the  emotions  these  objects  created. 


[98] 


CHAPTER  5 

Fbench  Still-Life  Painting 


CHAPTER  5 


Chardin,  1699-1779 

Chardin  was  a  man  who  could  do  very  simple  things 
in  a  very  simple  way — lifting  them  to  the  sublime. 
There  is  no  higher  praise  than  this.  It  is  the  praise  we 
would  accord  the  spiritual  leaders  of  our  race,  the  St. 
Francises,  the  Brother  Laurences,  the  Wordsworths,  the 
men  who  taught  the  world  to  find  love  and  joy  and 
beauty  where  they  have  never  been  foimd  before!  If 
one  questions  if  Chardin  is  worthy  of  this  company,  the 
answer  is,  he  has  shown  us  forever  the  spiritual  value  of 
silent  things — ^yes,  even  of  pots  and  pans. 

There  are  certain  geniuses,  and  a  few  artists,  poets, 
writers,  who  move  through  history  unswerved  by  pass- 
ing fashions  in  art,  and  who  hand  on  to  succeeding  gen- 
erations those  permanent  qualities  that  are  too  precious 
for  the  race  to  lose.  Chardin  continued  in  France  the 
Dutch  tradition  of  genre  painting. 

Chardin's  self-portrait  is  a  description  of  the  man  and 
of  his  art.    He  shows  us  himself,  unflattered,  the  plain 

[101] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

man  that  he  was.  He  looks  at  one  honestly,  bluntly, 
behind  his  clumsy  horn  spectacles — ^no  self-conscious  air, 
no  piercing  glance,  no  haughty  poise  of  the  head.  Per- 
haps we  would  enjoy  a  more  animated,  spirited  face;  it 
is  a  bit  phlegmatic.  He  might  have  worn  for  this  oc- 
casion a  more  becoming  hat,  but  no,  he  prefers  us  to 
know  him  as  he  really  is.  What  impresses  us,  above  all, 
is  the  genuineness  of  the  man,  his  permanent  human 
qualities. 

And  this  is  his  art:  intensely  human,  perfectly  gen- 
uine, an  art  for  the  people.  In  character,  unaffected  by 
passing  fashions ;  but  in  technical  qualities,  composition, 
luminosity,  coloring,  tonahty,  so  superior  and  at  the  same 
time  so  modem,  that  since  his  day — even  in  our  own 
time,  those  who  admire  him  most  are  the  painters  them- 
selves, the  connoisseurs.  For  these  reasons  Chardin  re- 
mains a  master  whose  pictures  seem  to  belong  more  to 
ourselves,  to  be  in  spirit  closer  to  our  own  times,  than 
those  of  any  other  Frenchman  of  the  past. 

He  is  one  of  the  enigmas  of  French  art.  It  is  futile 
to  try  to  account  for  him  fully.  He  remained  absolutely 
apart  from  his  age,  from  his  French  environment.  The 
art  of  his  day  was  expressed  by  such  painters  as  Lar- 
gilliere,  Rigaud,  de  Latour,  Nattier,  Perronneau,  Wat- 
teau,  Lancret,  Pater,  Boucher  and  Fragonard. 

The  age  which  preceded  him,  that  of  Louis  XIV, 
demanded  of  art  "the  grand  style,"  in  portraiture 
haughty  pomposity,  grandiloquence,  self-conscious  su- 
periority; in  other  fields  of  painting  classical  elegance 
and  grandeiu',  all  that  went  with  the  extravagant  court 
of  "the  great  monarch."    The  art  of  the  Regency  and 

[102] 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

of  Louis  Quinze,  which  was  Chardin's  age,  was  a  re- 
bellion against  these  things.  French  taste,  tired  of  the 
dignified  pose,  swung  to  Hght-headed  gaiety.  In  por- 
traiture Nattier  and  his  school  sought  charm  and  coquet- 
tish grace  rather  than  hauteur;  in  figure  subjects  Wat- 
teau  responded  to  the  new  demand,  and  gave  to  the 
world  pictures  of  poetic  and  idyUic  fancy.  Watteau 
was  a  much  more  serious  painter  than  the  public  of  his 
day  was  aware  of.  His  art  was  understood  to  be  merely 
fantastic,  and  his  successors,  Lancret,  Pater  and 
Boucher,  produced  those  delightfully  superficial  and 
altogether  French  works  of  art  which  were  imitated  in 
the  eighteenth  century  by  the  whole  world.  For  it  is 
particularly  the  genius  of  the  French  to  be  able  to  be 
gay — in  a  sense  to  coquette  with  life — and  yet  maintain 
that  amount  of  restraint  which  is  necessary  for  refine- 
ment. This  is  what  gave  eighteenth  century  French 
art  a  piquancy  we  have  never  ceased  to  admire — and  the 
lack  of  which  we  most  deplore  today. 

Chardin  ought  to  have  been  a  Dutchman.  He  was 
planted  into  a  world  in  which  he  did  not  seem  to  belong. 
Or  are  we  judging  France  of  his  day  by  the  art  of  his 
time?  Chardin,  the  man  of  simple  tastes,  might  have 
been  far  more  representative  of  the  true  French  char- 
acter than  we  would  ever  suppose  from  most  eighteenth 
century  French  art.  Chardin's  own  paintings  picture 
to  us  a  side  of  life  we  never  see  in  any  other  painting 
of  the  day.  They  seem  convincing.  Let  us  hope  they 
are  the  true  pictures  of  French  hfe.  Take,  for  example, 
"The  House  of  Cards"  or  "Child  with  a  Top,"  both  pic- 
tures of  little  boys  at  a  table;  these  show  us  an  interest 

[  los  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

in  homely  joys  which  has  nothing  in  common  with  the 
artificiality  we  are  more  famiUar  with  in  the  art  of  the 
court.  This  interest  in  the  genre — as  well  as  his  love 
for  still-life — is  Dutch  in  spirit,  but  there  is  a  subtle 
suggestion  in  all  his  works  of  something  French.  It 
may  be  their  deHcate  refinement,  their  perfect  tasteful- 
ness,  their  elevated  sentiment  which  leads  one  to  feel 
this.  There  is  an  elevation  about  Chardin's  art  that  we 
seldom  find  in  the  Dutch.  We  may  be  thankful  there- 
fore that  he  was  French  and  could  contribute  something 
mysterious  and  new  to  still-life  painting. 

I  have  said  that  his  art  was  intensely  human;  it  may 
sound  strange  to  say  this  about  the  art  of  a  still-Hfe 
painter.  I  refer  principally  to  his  "Interiors"  such  as 
"La  Pourvoyeuse"  or  "La  Benedicite,"  but  Chardin's 
still-Uves  have  this  quality  too,  pecuHar  as  it  may  seem. 
Not  all  of  them,  for  sometimes  he  fell  into  the  fault  of 
making  elaborate  groups  which  are  too  obviously  "ar- 
rangements." But  his  best  still-Hves  are  so  naturally 
grouped  that  they  seem  to  have  been  left — carelessly  per- 
haps— as  if  the  cook  had  turned  her  back  for  a  moment, 
and  given  the  painter  his  opportunity.  Chardin  won  his 
reputation  as  a  painter  by  a  still-life  picture.  His 
famous  "Skate"  of  1728,  now  in  the  Louvre,  was  the 
picture  that  gained  his  membership  in  the  French 
Academy.  *  There  is  something  highly  instructive  in  the 
story  of  this  "Skate."  That  such  pompous  painters  as 
Largilliere  or  Cazes  could  find  in  a  painting  of  this  kind 
quahties  that  gave  it  a  place  beside  the  greatest  works 
of  the  period,  is  indicative  that  even  in  a  superficial, 
aristocratic  age  a  sincere  and  simple  genius  was  appre- 

[  104  ] 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

dated.  The  picture  shows  us  a  tableful  of  sea-food  and 
kitchen  utensils— fish,  oysters,  bottles,  jugs  and  pans, 
among  which  a  cat  is  eagerly  prowling.  In  the  fore- 
ground is  a  large  crumpled  napkin,  and  in  the  back- 
groimd,  most  conspicuous,  an  enormous  skate,  hanging 
by  a  chain. 

By  this  picture  Chardin  proved  his  artistic  descent 
from  Abraham  van  Beyeren  and  the  Haarlem  school. 
But  in  spite  of  this  his  still-hves  have  an  independence 
of  their  own.  There  is  one  in  the  Boston  Museum  of 
Fine  Arts,  entitled  simply  "Still-Life,"  but  it  had  much 
better  be  called  "Waiting  for  the  Cook,"  or  "Materials 
for  the  Dinner"  (Fig.  53) .  Predominant  is  a  large  ket- 
tle for  stewing,  with  its  ladle;  beside  it  is  a  tall  jug  or 
earthen  pitcher.  On  the  table  are  also  a  fowl,  a  breast  of 
lamb,  a  mortar  and  pestle,  a  few  other  less  important  ar- 
ticles, and  a  white  towel.  This  white  towel  is  the  finest  bit 
of  painting  in  the  picture.  The  background  is  plain,  neu- 
tral in  tone,  and  the  table,  too,  is  treated  simply,  so  that 
the  light,  concentrated  on  the  fowl,  the  jug  and  the  towel, 
brings  the  attention  where  it  belongs  with  no  diversion 
of  interest.  One  does  not  feel,  therefore,  that  Chardin 
painted  these  common  objects,  merely  because  they  were 
interesting  in  themselves — although  they  were  and  still 
are — ^but  chiefly  because  of  their  artistic  value  as  con- 
trasts in  color  and  reflectors  of  light.  It  is  the  light  on 
the  towel,  and  its  subtle  shadows  that  we  admire. 

Another  still-Ufe  by  Chardin  in  the  Boston  Museum 
shows  the  same  simplicity  of  arrangement  (Fig.  54). 
Well  composed  it  is,  but  there  is  nothing  in  its  composi- 
tion to  excite  one ;  these  pictures  of  Chardin's,  in  contrast 

[105] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

to  W^enicx's  are  not  designed  for  decorative  effect ;  their 
charm  lies  in  their  intimacy.  In  this  we  have  a  large 
teapot,  a  few  bmiches  of  grapes,  and  a  pear,  that  is  all. 

Chardin's  still-life  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum  is 
as  humble  as  any  of  Pieter  Claesz'  (Fig.  55).  It  shows 
the  painter  to  be  not  only  the  reverse  of  Weenicx,  but 
also  the  reverse  of  such  highly  finished  painters  as  de 
Heem  or  van  Huysum.  Chardin  cares  nothing  about  the 
microscopic  delicacy  of  a  fly  or  a  beetle  that  may  happen 
to  perch  on  a  grape.  This  is  what  is  so  modern  about 
Chardin:  The  picture  in  question  is  a  sort  of  breakfast- 
piece — ^the  breakfast  of  a  very  simple  person.  On  a  stone 
shelf  there  is  a  plate  of  fish,  a  fork,  a  broken  loaf  of 
bread,  with  a  knife  stuck  into  it,  a  bottle  of  wine  and  a 
beaker.  Nothing  could  be  rougher.  Indeed  it  reminds 
one  of  a  bit  taken  out  of  a  Teniers  or  a  Brouwer.  Tech- 
nically, too,  the  painting  harmonizes  with  the  subject. 
It  is  ahnost  sketchily  done.  All  that  Chardin  cared 
about — all  that  we  care  about,  is  the  light  on  the  broken 
crust  against  the  dark  rich  tones  of  the  bottle  and  the 
background. 

Probably  no  master  has  shown  so  well  the  possibilities 
of  oil  as  a  medium  for  paint  as  does  Chardin  in  such 
pictures  as  these.  The  suavity  of  his  brush  stroke,  the 
fluidity  of  his  modeling,  the  clearness  of  his  colors,  and 
the  softness  of  his  light  are  all  so  perfectly  and  easily 
accomplished  that  it  seems  as  if  the  technical  limitations 
of  oil  painting  had  been  reached  by  this  one  man. 

But  if  I  were  to  be  asked  what  constitutes  the  greatest 
charm  of  Chardin's  work,  I  should  say,  it  was  not  artistic 

[106] 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

cleverness,  but  something  far  more   difficult — simple 
truth-telling,  nothing  more  nor  less. 

Chardin  is  the  link  that  connects  the  Dutch  school  of 
the  seventeenth  century  with  the  French  still-hfe  paint- 
ers of  the  nineteenth  century.  Until  we  come  to  Courbet, 
VoUon,  Manet  and  Fantin-Latour,  almost  to  our  own 
times,  we  find  Httle  in  still-life  painting  to  arrest  the 
attention.  The  Neo-Classic  Revival,  encouraged  by  the 
French  Revolution,  turned  the  eyes  of  artists  to  ancient 
Greece  and  Rome.  Lofty  themes  alone  were  permitted 
to  the  painter.  David,  the  autocrat  in  art,  dominated 
the  artistic  world,  and  such  pictures  as  "The  Oath  of  the 
Horatii,"  "Brutus  Condemning  His  Own  Sons  to  Death 
for  Treason  against  the  State,"  became  the  standard  by 
which  all  other  pictures  were  judged.  This  was  an  art 
of  borrowed  ideas,  as  far  removed  from  life  as  the  Ro- 
man world  was  from  our  own.  At  the  same  time  the 
coloring  was  as  cold  and  dead  as  the  corpses  of  the  an- 
cient heroes.  Little  wonder  is  it  then  that  small  atten- 
tion could  be  paid  the  humble,  the  familiar  and  colorful 
things  of  life.  Still-life,  nature  morte,  was  for  nearly  a 
century,  dead  in  very  truth. 

II 

Courbet,  1819-1877 

Wherever  we  find  reaHsm  or  naturalism  in  western 
art,  we  find  an  interest  in  still-life.  This  is  true  of 
Italy  and  of  the  Netherlands;  it  is  also  true  of  France. 
Courbet,  the  first  of  the  so-called  realist  school  in 
France,  was  the  first  French  still-life  painter  of  any  note 
since  Chardin. 

[  107  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

Between  Chardin  and  Courbet  there  is  one  hundred 
years,  and  more.  In  that  time  French  art  had  suffered 
many  vicissitudes.  Swayed,  in  Chardin's  days,  by  the 
rococo  school,  which  strove  to  emulate  Watteau,  then 
vanquished  by  the  neo-classic  revolution  of  David,  later 
disciplined  into  the  academicism  of  Ingres,  and  now 
striving  for  freedom  through  the  romanticism  of  G^ri- 
cault  and  Delacroix,  French  art  needed  the  wholesome 
and  robust  leadership  of  a  man  like  Courbet  who  could 
finally  open  the  eyes  of  painters  to  a  new  vision  of  nature 
and  reaHty,  or  to  a  new  subject  matter  at  least,  and  put- 
ting art  once  more  to  school  with  the  soil,  begin  over 
again.  At  least  that  is  what  it  seemed  at  the  time. 
French  critics  and  the  public  looked  upon  Courbet's 
"Funeral  at  Omans"  as  the  funeral  of  art,  just  as  they 
had,  before,  considered  Delacroix'  "Massacre  of  Chios" 
as  the  massacre  of  art.  So  that,  to  many,  it  appeared 
that  art  was  crucified  and  would  have  to  be  reborn, 
whereas  in  reality  it  was  merely  a  return  to  nature.  But 
these  pictures  deserved  much  of  the  opprobrium  be- 
stowed upon  them.  Delacroix'  "Massacre"  has  Httle 
claim  to  our  attention  today,  outside  of  its  historic  in- 
terest. Like  its  predecessor,  Gericault's  "Wreck  of  the 
Medusa,"  the  first  in  the  category  of  wrecks,  massacres, 
and  funerals  for  art,  it  was  simply  an  expression  of 
a  revolt  against  the  academic  canon.  Courbet's  "Fu- 
neral at  Omans"  is  an  unlovely  thing,  brutal,  unneces- 
sary. Its  force  is  due  to  its  representation  of  a  homely 
circumstance  in  the  life  of  peasant  people,  but  because 
it  possessed  none  of  the  imaginative  quahties  that  make 
a  work  of  art  French — because  it  replaced  the  ideal  for 

[  108  ] 


CHARDIN,  STILL-LIFE 

METROPOLITAN    MUSEUM,    NEW    YORK 


CHARDIN,  STILL-LIFE 

NATIONAL  ART  GALLERY,  OTTAWA,   CANADA 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

the  matter-of-fact — the  French  public  rightly  con- 
demned it. 

Courbet's  saying  "J'aime  toutes  les  choses  pour 
qu'elles  sont"  sums  up  his  attitude  toward  art.  There  is 
something  very  Dutch  about  this  idea,  for  undoubtedly 
the  Dutch  loved  things  for  themselves,  for  what  they 
were.  Courbet,  very  possibly,  drew  much  inspiration 
from  the  Dutch.  In  his  early  years  when  he  was  still 
hesitating  for  expression,  he  spent  much  time  in  copying 
Rembrandt,  Hals  and  van  Dyck.  Later  he  said  that  the 
only  painters  he  admired  were  Ribera,  Zurbaran  and 
Velasquez — Spanish  painters  who  never  hesitated  to 
paint  the  less  agreeable  realities  of  Ufe.  Next  in  the 
list  of  his  elect  came  Holbein  and  the  Dutch  tavern 
painters  Ostade  and  Craesbeck.  At  the  head  of  this 
whole  list  is  in  reality  Caravaggio,  who  links  aU  the 
names  from  Rembrandt  to  Craesbeck  together,  although 
Courbet  did  not  mention  him.  So  the  point  of  contact 
between  Courbet  and  the  Dutch  is  remote.  Courbet 
descends  from  Caravaggio  and  Ribera.  A  Dutchman 
would  never  have  represented  a  railway  station,  as  Cour- 
bet did,  just  because  it  is  a  contemporary  fact.  Not 
even  Brouwer — perhaps  the  boldest  of  the  Dutch  real- 
ists— painted  things  exactly  as  they  were;  he  never 
seized  the  commonplace ;  he  chose  a  dramatic  episode,  or 
at  least  a  picturesque  one,  and  while  his  canvases  seem 
truthful  to  reality,  they  were  always  carefully  arranged 
— even  in  a  scene  of  disorder — and  they  are  bathed  in  an 
atmosphere  that  softens  their  brutality. 

We  must,  therefore,  expect  to  find  in  Courbet's  still- 
lives  Httle  that  we  are  accustomed  to.     We  will  not 

[109] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

discover  much  of  the  picturesque — using  the  term  in  its 
strict  sense  to  mean  arrangement,  pattern,  design,  re- 
lationship of  spaces,  variety  of  forms,  play  of  light  and 
shade.  We  must  expect  to  find,  instead,  what  appears 
to  be  a  casual  acceptance  of  things  as  they  happen  to  be. 
His  objects  will  not  be  placed;  they  will  remain  as  they 
fell,  or  as  they  were  poked  into  their  places  by  some 
prosaic  housemaid.  Cezanne  later  employed  the  same 
composition. 

It  must  be  said,  however,  that  Courbet's  still-lives  are 
less  literal  than  his  figure  subjects.  The  circumstances 
under  which  they  were  painted  palliated  their  brusque- 
ness. 

Courbet  was  bom  in  Omans,  in  Franche-Comte,  but 
had  a  strain  of  German  blood  in  his  veins ;  indeed  it  was 
the  strongest  strain.  He  looked  like  a  German — a  Ger- 
man peasant — ^with  a  large  buU  neck,  and  enormous 
bulk,  and  he  was  German  in  his  tastes.  If  one  looks 
through  his  works,  one  will  find  that  they  are  for  the 
most  part  either  coarse  or  sentimental.  Only  in  his 
sylvan  scenes  with  animals,  and  his  landscapes,  is  he  sin- 
cere. It  is  significant  that  nearly  all  of  his  still-lives  were 
painted  in  his  period  of  humiliation.  His  disgrace  and 
imprisonment  as  the  result  of  his  part  in  the  destruction 
of  the  Vendome  column  in  1870,  stripped  him,  robbed 
him,  of  his  defiance.  "They  have  killed  me,"  he  said  to 
a  friend,  "and  I  shall  never  do  anything  good  again." 
Deprived  of  his  studio  and  of  his  models,  he  took  to 
painting  fruit  and  flowers,  and  these,  rendered  in  the 
humble  spirit  of  Chardin,  awaken  our  sympathies  as  do 
no  other  works  of  Courbet. 

[iioj 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

Perhaps  the  most  tasteful  picture  he  ever  painted  was 
his  "Pheasants  and  Apples"  in  the  possession  of  Mile. 
JuHette  Courbet  (1912)  ^  It  comes  the  closest  to  being 
a  decorative  picture  of  any  of  his  still-Uves.  We  see  here 
in  a  landscape  two  splendid  birds,  a  male  and  a  female, 
with  gorgeous  plumage.  Their  heads  are  turned  back- 
ward, as  if  in  some  alarm,  or  as  if  they  were  on  the  alert 
for  an  enemy.  In  the  foreground  are  several  large 
apples,  red  and  yellow,  well  contrasted  and  rich  in  color. 
It  is  a  thoroughly  original  picture — Courbet  is  always 
original — vigorously  composed,  and  freely  executed. 
The  boldness  with  which  he  dares  to  contrast  the  small 
birds  against  the  correspondingly  large  apples,  is  char- 
acteristic of  him,  though  just  here  Hes  the  fault  in  the 
picture.  The  apples  are  of  equal  importance  with  the 
birds,  or  of  greater  importance,  which  is  unpleasant  to 
the  eye.  There  is  no  other  still-life  picture  Uke  it ;  some 
of  Jan  Fyt's  or  Hondekoeter's  come  the  nearest  to  it, 
and  there  is  an  old-master  quality  about  it,  with  its  deep 
rich  tones  and  shadows. 

This,  however,  is  not  a  pure  still-life.  His  "Fruit," 
of  1871,  in  a  private  collection  in  Scotland,^  is  a  more 
characteristic  example.  On  a  dining  table  covered  by  a 
white  cloth,  is  a  collection  of  apples,  pears,  and  quinces, 
piled  high  in  front  of  a  pot  of  growing  flowers.  The 
background  represents  a  room  with  a  fireplace,  mantle, 
and  a  framed  picture  on  the  wall. 

This  is  significant  of  Courbet's  realism.  The  fireplace 
and  mantel  are  unnecessary.    Another  criticism  which  at 

1  Can  be  found  in  Heineman's  "French  Artists  of  Our  Day,"  pi..  XLIV. 

2  Reproduced  in  MacCoU,  "Nineteenth  Century  Art,"  p.  146, 

[111] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

once  arises  is  that  there  is  a  total  lack  of  variety  in  the 
forms  of  the  objects.  The  fruits  are  nearly  all  of  the 
same  size,  and  they  seem  too  large  in  comparison  with 
the  flower  pot.  Kalff  would  have  placed  both  large  and 
small  fruits  in  the  composition,  and  there  would  have 
been  one  object  more  important  than  the  rest,  to  con- 
centrate the  interest.  No  doubt  things  happen  that  way 
— but,  we  may  ask,  is  it  therefore  necessary  to  paint 
them  so?  His  "Apples"  in  the  Ryks  Museum,  Amster- 
dam (Fig.  57) ,  shows  the  same  faults  as  "The  Pheasants 
and  Apples"  before  mentioned.  While  the  apples  them- 
selves are  well  painted,  they  have  the  size  of  melons 
compared  with  the  trees  which  serve  as  a  background. 
One  large  yellow  apple  looks  like  a  large  quince. 

Courbet,  we  have  said,  was  best  as  an  animal  painter. 
His  "Dead  Stag"  is  painted  much  in  the  style  of 
Snyders,  and,  while  not  original  in  treatment,  is  one  of 
the  most  striking  of  the  artist's  still-Hves.  The  dead 
stag  hangs  by  a  tree  in  an  open  landscape — the  land- 
scape being  like  the  backgrounds  in  Weenicx'  pictures, 
giving  the  effect  of  tapestry. 

Courbet  stands  at  the  threshold  of  a  new  era  in  still- 
life  painting.  He  is  neither  an  old  master  nor  a  mod- 
ern one.  Far  greater  men  than  he  succeed  him.  So  we 
will  leave  Courbet  to  pass  on  to  Manet,  the  first  great 
modem  master  of  still-life. 


[112] 


COURBET,  APPLES 

RYKS   MUSEUM,  AMSTERDAM 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 
III 

Manet,  1832-1883 

After  six  years  of  study  under  Couture,  Manet  threw 
over  the  academic  style  and,  disgusted,  traveled  in 
search  of  a  new  vision.  In  the  course  of  this  search  he 
married  a  Dutchwoman,  Suzanna  Leenhof  of  Delft,  a 
woman  of  artistic  tastes  whose  family  was  not  incon- 
spicuous in  sculpture,  engraving  and  music.  It  is  thus 
perfectly  clear  what  influence  was  strongest  in  determin- 
ing his  artistic  development — ^the  Dutch.  It  is  true  that 
he  travelled  in  Spain,  and  his  early  paintings  are 
strongly  reminiscent  of  Velasquez  and  Goya,  but  other 
works  recall  Franz  Hals.  In  either  case,  the  original 
impetus  is  the  same.  What  Manet  discovered  was  a  new 
?:ealism,  or  naturalism,  whichever  one  pleases  to  call  it 
— ^not  that  of  the  brand  of  Courbet. 

We  can  take  four  pictures  to  illustrate  this  point. 
"The  Guitar  Player"  of  1860,  the  "Boy  with  a  Sword" 
of  1861,  the  "Olympia"  of  1865,  and  "The  Bon  Bock"  of 
1873.  Of  the  first,  Theophile  Gautier  said,  "Here's  a 
Guitarero  who  does  not  come  from  the  Opera  Comique 
and  who  would  cut  a  poor  figure  in  a  romantic  litho- 
graph ;  but  Velasquez  would  hail  it  with  a  friendly  wink, 
and  Goya  would  ask  him  for  a  light  for  his  'papelito.'  " 

In  truth  it  is  in  the  spirit  of  the  two  great  Spaniards, 
but  it  is  significant  that  at  this  time  Manet  had  not  been 
to  Spain.  He  had  been  interested  in  the  performance 
of  a  troupe  of  Spanish  dancers,  and  had  painted  one  of 
the  singers,  in  Paris,  from  the  life.  How  is  it  then,  that 
the  picture  recalls  Velasquez  and  Goya?    The  answer 

[118] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

is  simple — these  two  Spaniards  reflect  the  Dutchman 
Franz  Hals,  and  it  was  Franz  Hals  who  was  affecting 
Manet  at  this  time.  Hals,  Velasquez,  Goya  I  This  is  a 
trio  of  old  masters  as  modem  as  any  artists  living  today 
— impressionists  all  of  them. 

But  how  was  it  that  Hals  impressed  Manet?  Merely 
by  his  kinship  of  spirit.  Franz  Hals  had  looked  upon 
life  with  the  same  eyes — pretty  much — as  Manet.  He 
had  discarded  the  schools,  and  with  a  freshness  of  pig- 
ment and  freedom  of  brush  had  portrayed  the  singing 
cavaliers  and  the  gay  wenches  as  well  as  the  sturdy 
magistrates  and  staid  Mennonites,  people  of  every  type, 
as  Manet  would  paint  the  types  about  him.  It  was  not 
merely  the  realism  of  Hals  that  made  him  eternally  mod- 
em, but  his  method  of  painting.  He  wanted  to  catch 
the  fleeting  glance,  the  momentary  effect.  To  do  this 
needed  a  technique  different  from  that  of  any  who  had 
gone  before  him.  One  brush  stroke  would  have  to  serve 
for  the  shadow  of  a  nose,  another  for  a  nostril — subtle- 
ties of  shadow  would  have  to  give  way  to  spontaneity  of 
effect.  Thus,  without  knowing  it,  Hals  became  the 
father  of  impressionism.  The  picture  of  Manet*s  which 
is  most  strongly  suggestive  of  Hals  is  his  "Bon  Bock." 
It  was  painted  just  after  the  artist's  return  from  Hol- 
land. It  is  no  wonder  that  Alfred  Stevens  said  of  the 
portrait,  "He  is  drinking  Haarlem-brewed  beer."  Belot 
is  in  fact  much  more  like  a  German  than  a  Dutchman  in 
appearance,  but  the  vivacity  with  which  he  is  presented 
is  absolutely  Hals.' 

Next  to  Hals,  Velasquez  was  the  greatest  master  of 
brushwork  the  western  world  had  known.   He  likewise 

[114] 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

was  a  realist  of  the  truthful  sort  who  never  flattered. 
He  dared  to  paint  not  only  what  he  saw,  but  what  he 
knew  was  there.  Thus  he  stripped  his  sitters  of  their 
disguise.  In  the  whole  gallery  of  royal  portraiture 
where  can  we  find  as  truthful  a  picture  of  a  king  as 
Velasquez'  Philip  IV?  As  Velasquez  shows  him,  he  is 
not  an  inch  a  king.  I  doubt  if  there  is  any  portrait  like 
it  for  frankness,  unless  it  be  Goya's  Charles  IV. 

Manet,  too,  loved  to  tear  the  mask  from  society,  in  a 
word,  to  shock,  as  he  did  occasionally,  as  in  his  "Olym- 
pia."  This  work  is  undoubtedly  reminiscent  of  Goya's 
nude  "Maja."  Velasquez'  influence  is  most  strongly  felt 
in  Manet's  "Boy  with  a  Sword"  in  the  Metropolitan 
Museum,  New  York.  The  full  length  pose,  the  plain 
neutral  background,  the  brushwork  all  recall  the  Spanish 
master. 

This  stress  on  Manet's  antecedents  is  not  out  of  place 
in  our  study  of  still-life  painting;  it  prepares  us  for 
what  we  may  expect,  for  any  Dutch  influence,  direct  or 
indirect,  would  be  bound  to  react  by  producing  still- 
life  pictures.  Velasquez,  for  example  impressed  as  he 
was  by  Hals,  painted  still-lives.  His  "bodegones,"  the 
studies  of  his  youth,  are  kitchen  interiors,  or  breakfast 
pieces,  not  far  removed  from  the  style  of  Dou,  Metsu 
and  Maes. 

Throughout  his  life  Manet  gave  still-life  a  prominent 
place  in  his  art;  this  is  evident  not  merely  in  his  pure 
still-life  pictures  but  in  his  figure  pieces.  In  his  early 
Guitarero,  we  will  notice  that  down  at  the  foot  of  the 
bench  on  which  the  singer  is  sitting,  are  two  onions  and 
a  large  bottle.    What  are  they  here  for  save  to  add  a 

[115] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

touch  of  color  and  variety  to  a  part  of  the  picture  need- 
ing it?  Manet  with  correct  artistic  instinct  felt  that 
oftentimes  a  portrait  or  a  figure  group  with  its  large  in- 
terests, needed  a  few  objects  like  a  vase  of  flowers,  some 
fruit,  or  utensils,  to  offset  it,  and  by  their  small  spots  of 
bright  color  to  relieve  the  broader  surfaces.  In  his  "Eva 
Gonzales,"  there  is  the  greatest  attention  paid  to  the 
painting  of  the  chair,  the  portfolio  beside  it,  and  the 
flower  on  the  floor.  In  his  "Dejeuner  sur  I'herbe,"  there 
is  again,  in  one  corner,  a  still-life  group — baskets  of 
fruit.  It  must  be  remembered  that  Manet  called  this 
picture  "Le  Bain" ;  the  later  name  by  which  it  was  gen- 
erally known  was  given  because  the  still-life  in  the  pic- 
ture suggested  a  picnic  scene.  Manet's  "Dejeuner  dans 
I'Atelier"  likewise  gives  this  importance  to  still-life  ac- 
cessories, as  do  his  "Pere  Lathuile"  with  a  counter  full 
of  bottles,  his  "Bar  des  Folies  Bergeres,"  likewise  with 
bottles,  glasses,  flasks,  etc.,  and  obviously  the  "Boy  with 
a  Sword,"  "The  Woman  with  a  Paroquet,"  the  "Boy 
Blowing  Soap  Bubbles,"  and  his  "Portrait  of  Emile 
Zola,"  with  Japanese  prints  in  the  background. 

Duret's  story  of  how  Manet  painted  his  portrait  is 
illuminating  on  this  subject.    He  writes :' 

"In  1868  in  the  Rue  Guyot,  Manet  painted  my  por- 
trait. Here  I  had  an  opportunity  of  observing  the  ac- 
tual working  of  his  mind,  and  the  processes  by  which  he 
built  up  a  picture.  The  portrait  was  of  a  small  size  and 
represented  me  standing  up,  with  the  left  hand  in  the 
waistcoat  pocket  and  the  right  resting  on  a  cane.  The 
grey  frock  coat  which  I  was  wearing  detached  itself 

3  "Manet  and  the  French  Impressionists,"  p.  66. 

[116] 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

from  a  grey  background — the  picture  thus  forming  a 
harmony  in  grey.  When  it  was  finished,  quite  success- 
fully in  my  opinion,  I  saw  that  Manet  was  not  satisfied 
with  it.  He  seemed  anxious  to  add  something  to  it.  One 
day  when  I  came  he  made  me  resume  the  pose  in  which 
he  had  originally  placed  me,  and,  moving  a  stool  near 
to  me,  he  began  to  paint  it  with  its  garnet-colored  cover 
of  woolen  stuff.  Then  the  idea  occurred  to  him  of  taking 
a  book  and  putting  it  underneath  the  stool ;  this,  too,  he 
painted  with  its  cover  of  bright  green.  Next  he  placed 
on  the  stool  a  lacquer  tray,  with  a  decanter,  a  glass  and 
a  knife.  All  these  variously  colored  objects  constituted 
an  addition  of  still-life  in  a  corner  of  the  picture;  the 
effect  was  wholly  unpremeditated,  and  came  to  me  as  a 
surprise.  Another  addition  which  he  made  afterwards 
was  still  more  unexpected — a  lemon  placed  upon  the 
glass  on  the  little  tray  .  .  .  Evidently  the  picture 
painted  throughout  in  a  grey  monochrome  gave  him  no 
pleasure.  His  eye  felt  the  lack  of  pleasing  colors.  Thus 
this  practice  (shown  in  many  of  his  other  works)  of 
placing  bright  tones  in  juxtaposition — ^in  the  luminous 
patches  contemptuously  described  as  patchwork — pro- 
ceeded from  a  perfectly  frank  and  deep-rooted  in- 
stinct." 

This  brings  us  to  Manet's  new  use  of  color,  which  dis- 
tinguishes his  later  work,  and  the  work  of  most  succeed- 
ing painters  influenced  by  him,  from  the  older  masters. 
Compared  to  him  Courbet  was  an  old  master,  in  that  he 
painted  with  the  traditional  chiaroscuro,  obscuring  his 
objects  in  brown  shadow  and  avoiding  bright  colors. 
But  Manet,  whether  from  his  own  instinct,  or  from  his 

[117] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

admiration  of  Japanese  art,  or  from  his  contact  with 
the  plein-airism  of  Manet,  gradually  came  to  feel  that 
the  greatest  aesthetic  pleasure  was  derived  from  color. 

It  would  be  deviating  too  far  afield  to  go  into  a  dis- 
cussion of  the  new  use  of  color  by  Manet  and  the  im- 
pressionists. Sufficient  for  us  is  the  fact  that  from 
this  time  on  modem  painting  makes  a  complete  break 
with  the  past;  objects  are  taken  out  of  their  dark  studio 
comers,  enveloped  as  they  were  in  brown  shadow,  and 
placed  in  the  light  where  their  bright  and  rich  colors 
can  be  enjoyed  for  themselves. 

Manet's  "Peonies"  in  the  Louvre,  is  a  still-life  study 
of  his  later  years  which  illustrates  the  new  method  in 
painting  still-lives.  First  of  all  it  reminds  one  of  the 
East.  The  vase  and  the  platter  on  which  it  stands  is 
Chinese,  of  a  brilliant  design,  the  lustrous  white  porce- 
lain enlivened  by  richly  colored  birds  and  flowers.  This 
is  the  new  note  in  color,  the  lustrous,  the  gorgeous — and 
the  vase  does  not  stand  in  the  dark  shadow  of  an  old 
master,  but  in  a  bright,  broad  light.  More  splendid  are 
the  great  peonies,  which  take  up  the  whole  rest  of  the 
picture,  forming  a  decorative  pattern  not  unlike  a  Chi- 
nese design.  The  petals  are  painted  with  the  loose,  free, 
impressionistic  strokes  Manet  derived  from  Hals,  so 
that  the  whole  picture  has  a  freshness  that  should  be- 
long above  all  else  to  flowers. 

That  Manet  was  interested  in  the  art  of  the  Far  East 
is  well  known.  Though  this  interest  did  not  affect  so 
much  the  character  of  his  art  as  it  did  that  of  Whistler, 
we  find  Chinese  and  Japanese  details  of  design  often 
introduced.    His  love  for  peonies — of  which  he  did  sev- 

[118] 


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FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

eral  still-lives — was  perhaps  due  to  his  admiration  for 
oriental  design.  One  of  his  flower  pieces,  with  roses 
and  irises,  in  the  Duret  collection,  Paris,  shows  a  vase 
on  which  is  painted  a  dragon.  Often  times  these  flowers 
have  light  grey  backgromids — ^the  neutral  tone  of  which 
gives  them  a  suggestion  of  the  Chinese  or  the  Japanese. 
It  is  easy  to  imagine  how  very  different  such  still-lives 
are  from  any  painted  according  to  the  Dutch  tradition. 

But  Manet's  versatility  in  still-life  painting  led  him  to 
great  variety  in  choice  of  subject  and  treatment.  The 
catalogue  by  Duret*  reveals  the  fact  that  he  painted 
at  least  three  canvases  of  fish,  two  of  oysters,  one  of  a 
ham,  three  of  "Pears,"  one  entitled  simply  "Raspber- 
ries," another  "Plums,"  and  two  of  "Peaches,"  while 
he  made  several  small  studies  of  lemons,  apples,  and 
melons.  That  simple  individual  objects  were  repre- 
sented is  shown  by  his  picture  of  "A  Bottle" ;  game  he 
painted  also,  as  in  his  "Rabbit"  and  "Hare."  Flowers, 
however,  are  the  most  numerous  in  the  list. 

Some  of  his  still-lives  recall  Claesz  or  Heda,  as  in  the 
"Oysters"  of  the  Pau  Gallimard  collection,  Paris,  where 
there  is  a  plate  shown  with  six  opened  oysters,  other 
oysters  on  the  table  with  a  sliced  lemon,  and  a  china 
pepper  shaker,  with  a  fork.  Professor  Mather  of 
Princeton  possesses  a  Manet  which  reminds  one  of  a 
Chardin  in  the  Louvre  as  well  as  some  work  of  the  Haar- 
lem painters  (Fig  58) .  It  represents  a  table,  with  the  in- 
evitable cloth,  and  a  collection  of  bottles,  porcelain  and 
other  ware.  It  is  not  in  the  least  impressionistic,  being 
delicately  smooth  in  its  brushwork.    But  the  cool  grey 

4  "Manet  and  the  French  Impressionists,"  Appendix  1. 

[119] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

luminosity  of  the  work  is  distinctly  Manet,  Even  more 
like  the  Haarlem  painters  in  arrangement  is  his  "Mel- 
ons, Quinces  and  Grapes.'"*  On  a  table  partly  covered 
by  a  white  cloth  are  the  melons  on  a  plate,  the  quinces 
on  another  plate,  a  bottle,  a  glass,  and  a  bunch  of  grapes. 
But  the  treatment  is  unlike  any  Dutchman's.  The  pic- 
ture is  equally  illumined,  with  no  deep  shadows,  the 
light  being  distributed  evenly  over  the  objects.  The  in- 
terest centres  in  the  color  contrasts,  and  the  subtle  color 
tones  of  the  white  cloth,  the  fruits  and  the  high  reflec- 
tions of  the  bottle.  The  artist  seems  to  have  sought 
brilliancy  of  effect — luminosity,  rather  than  delicacy, 
and  there  is  a  lack  of  decorative  quality  that  a  still-life 
should  possess.  Sometimes  mere  freedom  of  technique 
interested  him,  as  in  his  fluid  "Fish"  in  the  Durand-Ruel 
Collection.  Manet  is  seldom  decorative,  except  by  ac- 
cident. His  neutral  backgrounds  against  which  he 
places  his  light  spots,  assist  in  giving  his  canvases  a 
decorative  quality;  the  flatness  of  his  tones  also  adds  to 
it;  but  it  is  not  apparent  that  Manet  studied  line  and 
spacing — interesting  variety  in  forms  or  contrasts  of 
light  and  shade  as  part  of  a  design. 

But  Manet  has  placed  succeeding  generations  of  still- 
life  painters  in  his  debt  by  showing  the  aesthetic  value 
of  color  in  and  for  itself,  the  keen  emotions  that  can  be 
aroused  by  pure  pigment,  and  the  joy  that  can  be  de- 
rived from  clear  light  and  brightness. 

6  Reproduced  in  Heineman's  "French  Artists  of  Our  Day,"  pi.  XXII. 
Collection  not  given. 


[120] 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

IV 

Fantin-Latour,  1836-1904 

The  name  of  Fantin-Latour  is  often  linked  with  that 
of  Manet.  It  was  Fantin  who  painted  the  celebrated 
portrait  of  Manet,  in  1861,  and  Manet's  portrait  occurs 
again  in  Fantin's  "Hommage  a  Delacroix"  of  1864,  as 
well  as  in  Fantin's  "Un  atelier  aux  BatignoUes,"  of 
1870.  Both  painters  exhibited  in  the  historic  Salon  de 
Refuses  of  1863.  Naturally  they  were  friends.  But 
Fantin,  being  a  lesser  genius,  was  influenced  by  the 
other.  He  attained  his  reputation  by  his  Salon  picture 
of  the  "Atelier  aux  BatignoUes,"  which,  aside  from  its 
interest  as  a  collection  of  portraits  of  famous  revolu- 
tionaries in  art,  was  appreciated  for  its  fine  grey  tonal- 
ity and  its  naturalism. 

Fantin  never  aimed  for  the  bold  effects  of  Manet.  It 
was  as  if  his  sensitive  spirit  feared  the  light  of  the  blaz- 
ing sun,  and  was  more  content  in  the  softened  light  of  the 
studio.  He  was  influenced  by  such  pictures  of  Manet's 
as  the  "Eva  Gonzales,"  "The  Boy  with  the  Sword,"  "The 
Woman  with  a  Paroquet,"  and  those  with  grey  or  neu- 
tral backgrounds,  quiet  cool  tones,  and  subdued  color 
schemes. 

Fantin-Latour  was  a  genius  of  so  quiet  a  refinement, 
and  so  subtle  a  charm  that  he  attracted,  and  still  at- 
tracts but  little  attention  from  the  art-loving  public. 
Courbet,  Manet,  and  later  Cezanne,  shocked;  therefore 
they  were  famous.  But  search  the  histories  for  Fantin- 
Latour,  and  what  a  scanty  paragraph  he  occupies !  He 
is  a  painter  for  the  connoisseurs,  and  therefore,  if  you 

[  121  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

search  the  essayists — the  writings  of  such  discriminating 
critics  as  Geffroy,  Proust  or  Leonce  Benedite,  it  is  sur- 
prising, and  yet  not  so — ^how  thoroughly  he  satisfies 
them. 

He  painted,  besides  portraits,  allegories,  nudes  and 
figure  subjects  of  every  description.  In  his  allegories 
he  was  most  individual.  An  enumeration  of  his  works 
would  include  almost  as  many  of  this  class  of  picture  as 
of  still-hves.  His  "Andromeda"  of  the  salon  of  1898, 
and  his  "Undine"  and  "Bathers"  of  the  same  year  awak- 
ened high  praise.  In  such  works  he  displayed  a  fancy 
combined  with  naturalism  that  is  indeed  rare.  Geffroy 
is  never  stinted  in  his  praise  of  Fantin.  He  writes, 
"One  would  almost  be  able  to  apply  in  its  entirety  the 
verse  of  Baudelaire  to  the  conception  of  this  painter-poet 
who  was  possessed  with  the  harmonies  of  line,  of  color, 
and  of  musical  rhythm: 

'One  to  the  other,  the  forms,  the  colors  and  the 
sounds  respond.'  "a 

One  of  the  reasons  why  Fantin  is  so  much  admired 
by  those  who  know,  is,  that  he  was  purely  an  artist,  with 
a  perfect  taste.  Far  more  discriminating  than  most  of 
his  contemporaries  who  pursued  certain  theories  in  art 
regardless  of  all  else,  he  understood  that  tradition  in  art 
had  a  forcefulness  that  could  never  be  replaced  by  what 
was  new,  yet  at  the  same  time  he  appreciated  what  was 
new  in  his  own  day,  and  selected  from  it.  What  he  de- 
sired above  all  else  in  a  picture  was  unity  and  natural- 
ism. For  that  reason  his  pictures  are  always  restful, 
and  one  turns  to  them  with  relief  after  the  highly  emo- 

•  La  Vie  Artistique,  4-384. 

[  122  ] 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

tional  experience  which  one  so  often  has  witnessing  an 
exhibition  of  late  nineteenth  century  art. 

Fantin's  talent  is  seen  at  its  best  in  his  still-Hves,  for 
in  these  simple  compositions,  often  so  quaintly  arranged, 
he  develops  a  style  that  is  distinctly  his  own. 

The  number  of  these  pictures  is  prodigious.  During 
his  career  he  must  have  painted  several  hundred.  In 
Flourys'  "Catalogue  de  I'oeuvre  complet  de  Fantin- 
Latour"  of  1911,  it  appears  that  in  1872  he  painted  no 
less  than  forty-eight  still-lives,  most  of  them  flowers;  in 
1873,  seventy-seven,  in  1874,  thirty-one,  in  1875,  the 
same  years  as  his  masterpiece  portrait  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Edwards,  twenty-six. 

To  describe  one  of  his  still-lives  is  to  describe  many  of 
them;  there  are  dozens  which  differ  scarcely  at  all  in 
general  effect.  One  who  has  seen  many  of  his  canvases 
in  various  private  collections,  carries  away  the  impres- 
sion that  they  are  quite  uniform  in  style.  For  what  he 
does  is  simply  to  paint  a  bouquet  of  flowers,  of  various 
kinds,  in  a  vase  against  a  grey  background.  There  are 
several  which  the  writer  has  seen  in  private  and  public 
collections  in  Holland,  France,  and  America.  They  all 
had  the  following  arrangement :  against  a  grey  or  grey- 
blue  background,  light  or  dark,  perfectly  plain — table 
or  support  being  vaguely  suggested — a  vase  or  a  basket 
filled  with  many  flowers,  sometimes  tightly  compressed 
like  an  old-fashioned  bouquet;  sometimes  loosely  and 
freely  arranged,  a  motley  of  roses,  carnations,  poppies, 
blue  bells  or  larkspur  and  verbenas  mixed  in  with  their 
green  leaves;  or  simply  various  kinds  of  roses,  red  and 
white  and  pink — almost  any  combination  of  flowers,  pro- 

[123] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

viding  there  was  a  sufficient  variety  of  color  (Fig.  59). 

Some  of  Fantin's  still-lives  are  not  such  simple  vases 
of  flowers  as  I  have  described.  There  is  one  with  a  bas- 
ket of  roses,  more  loosely  arranged  than  most,  with  a 
glass  bowl  of  poppies  behind,  but  placed  with  charming 
simplicity  against  the  neutral  background.'  Nor  are  all 
of  his  compositions  flower-pieces,  for  there  is  one  which 
represents  a  basket  of  ferns,  with  grapes  on  a  table, 
nothing  else.* 

Descriptions  like  these  do  not  indicate  the  charm 
which  the  pictures  actually  possess;  tightly  bunched 
bouquets  of  red,  pink  and  blue  do  not  suggest  decora- 
tion nor  much  originality  in  arrangement.  But  it  must 
be  remembered  that  against  a  neutral  background  almost 
any  color  scheme  will  work.  That  is  why  a  Fantin  is 
never  crude.  No  matter  how  exciting  the  motley  of 
red  and  pink  and  purple  may  appear,  the  surrounding 
grey  gives  rest.  So  that  his  vase  of  flowers  is  like  a  rich 
jewel  against  the  velvet  of  a  woman's  dress,  or  a  stained 
glass  window  within  the  gloom  of  a  cathedral.  The 
flowers  are  as  vibrant  sparkles  of  hght  out  of  the  som- 
breness  of  a  dull  sky.  This  is  the  secret  of  Fantin-La- 
tour,  and  this  is  why  Geffroy  could  write,  "The  smallest 
canvas  of  Fantin-Latour  is  a  scheme  where  nothing  is 
lacking  to  constitute  a  definite  decoration." 

But  more  must  be  said.  Within  the  burst  of  splendor 
there  is  far  more  refinement,  arrangement,  display  of 
taste  than  is  at  first  apparent.  The  colors  will  appear 
to  arrange  themselves  so  that  the  whites,  the  salmons  and 

»  Reproduced  in  "L'oeuvre  de  Fantin-Latour,  Receuil  de  cinquante  Re- 
production." L^once  B^n^dite,  Paris,  1906,  from  the  Rosenburg  collection. 
8  Ibid.     From  the  Belvalette  Collection. 

[  124] 


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6>- 

FANTIN  LATOUR,  STUDY  IN  FLOWERS 

TATE    GALLERY,    LOST  DON 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

the  pinks  of  roses  will  group  together,  forming  a  con- 
spicuous mass  and  the  chief  point  of  interest  in  the  pic- 
ture. The  warmest  tones,  the  reds,  the  yellows,  and  the 
oranges  will  be  nearest  the  centre;  and,  as  the  bouquet 
curves  around  and  over,  the  violets  and  the  blues  will  be 
found.  Separating  them  yet  unifying  them,  are  the 
green  leaves.  These  colors,  therefore,  have  not  fallen 
so,  like  bits  of  sparkle  in  a  kaleidoscope,  but  they  were 
placed  so  by  a  luminist  who  understood  the  rules  of 
color  vibration  and  of  harmony.  And  it  is  apparent 
that  this  is  the  new  colorism — not  that  of  the  old  masters 
— but  of  Manet,  cool,  bright,  pure  and  lustrous,  envel- 
oped not  in  shadow,  but  in  a  clear  atmosphere  and  light. 
Nevertheless  there  is  no  impressionism  in  his  handling; 
every  flower  is  carefully  studied.  Its  individual  form 
and  texture  is  preserved  yet  not  too  detailed  to  destroy 
its  freshness.  For  this  reason  Fantin's  flowers  are  more 
satisfactory  than  Manet's.  The  latter,  while  trying  to 
preserve  the  freshness  of  his  flowers  by  impressionistic 
handling,  neglected  their  texture  and  their  form;  in 
short,  his  flowers  lack  that  exquisiteness  which  only  the 
greatest  refinement  can  produce.  The  art  of  flower- 
painting  makes  certain  stringent  demands:  to  obtain 
that  ineffable  texture,  whether  it  be  crisp  or  soft,  but 
always  delicate,  requires  a  patience  combined  with  dex- 
terity that  very  few  painters  in  the  whole  history  of  art 
have  possessed.  Of  the  hundreds  of  flower  painters,  men 
and  women,  who  thought  and  still  think  that  flower 
painting  is  a  refuge  for  the  artist  manque,  one  can  count 
on  his  left  hand  the  number  who  have  succeeded. 

Fantin  succeeded,  but  it  would  be  superficial  praise 

[125] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

to  adulate  his  art  without  being  aware  of  his  shortcom- 
ings. Often  his  flower-pieces  seem  over-studied.  As  a 
painter  of  the  textures  of  flowers,  he  does  not  satisfy  in 
every  case.  Certainly  in  this  respect  he  will  have  to  take 
second  place  beside  Lafarge.  And,  too,  in  spite  of 
GefProy,  one  feels  that  the  artist  is  not  a  great  decorator. 
His  forms  are  often  too  small,  there  is  not  sufficient 
largeness — ^not  sufficient  interesting  contrast  of  large 
masses  against  small  which  the  Chinese  and  Japanese 
knew  so  well  how  to  employ.  Decorative  Fantin's  still- 
lives  may  be,  but  in  the  sense  that  a  bit  of  jewelry  is 
decorative,  and  they  remind  one  most  of  the  mosaic 
brooches  of  the  late  Victorian  age. 


VoLLON,  1833-1900 

VoUon  was  a  reincarnation  of  a  seventeenth  century 
Dutchman.  While  Manet  was  merely  affected  by  a 
painter  like  Franz  Hals,  who  was  after  all  essentially 
modem,  Vollon  went  right  over  to  the  little  masters  of 
Amsterdam  and  Haarlem.  He  seems  to  have  been  but 
slightly  influenced  by  the  impressionist  movement,  and 
therefore  he  has  fared  badly  at  the  hands  of  critics  of 
modem  art.  Some  have  gone  so  far  as  to  say  that  he  is 
not  to  be  looked  at  in  company  with  Manet,  for  in  a 
natural  world  that  loves  out-of-door  life  with  its  radiance 
and  glory,  he  preferred  the  brown  gloom  of  the  studio 
interior.  Others  in  comparing  him  with  Fantin-Latour, 
contemptuously  allude  to  his  profusion  of  fish  and  oys- 
ters as  if  these  things  were  of  a  lower  order  than  flowers, 

[  126] 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

although  VoUon  did  flowers,  too.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  are  those  who  concede  that  he  is  the  greatest 
painter  of  still-hfe  since  Chardin,  and  one  of  the  most 
accomplished  painters  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

To  admirers  of  still-life  painting  criticism  of  Vollon 
on  the  grounds  that  he  belongs  to  the  past,  rather  than 
to  the  present,  will  always  fall  upon  deaf  ears.  He 
paints  dead  salt-water  fish  like  Abraham  van  Beyeren — 
good;  grapes  and  crystal  goblets  like  Kalff — so  much 
the  better!  Dead  game  Uke  Franz  Snyders  and  Fyt — 
excellent!  And  butcher  shops  like  Rembrandt  and 
Teniers — what  better  could  he  do? 

Vollon,  Bonvin,  Ribot,  and  Philippe  Rousseau  are 
four  names  that  rush  to  our  lips  together  when  we  think 
of  still-life  painting  in  France  in  the  last  century. 
Blaise-Desgoffe  is  a  fifth — but  let  us  not  spoil  our 
series.  These  four  are  kindred  spirits — all  Dutch  in 
the  same  enigmatical  sense  that  Chardin  was.  Bonvin 
is  the  example  of  the  humility  that  should  always  be  the 
lot  of  a  still-life  painter,  dealing  as  he  must  do  with 
humble  things.  A  realist,  the  most  he  attempted  was  to 
picture  the  life  and  the  things  which  interested  him.  In 
his  visits  to  the  Louvre,  and  later  to  Holland,  he  dis- 
covered that  he  belonged  to  the  company  of  Chardin, 
Vermeer,  Metsu  and  de  Hoog, — painters  of  familiar 
genre,  who  were  not  inspired  by  the  merely  anecdotal 
but  by  the  picturesque.  Bonvin's  still-lives  began  in  the 
kitchen,  with  the  cooks — French  ones,  however — and 
their  pots  and  pans,  hence  his  pictures  have  the  subdued 
lighting  of  indoors  with  deep  shadows  (Fig.  62). 

Ribot's  beginning  was  no  less  humble.     Poverty- 

[  127  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

stricken,  he  was  forced  to  work  in  his  spare  hours  at 
night ;  hence  his  darkened  interiors.  Accustomed  to  this 
scheme,  it  was  natural  that  he  should  turn  to  the  arti- 
ficial lighting  of  Rembrandt  and  the  Spanish  Ribera, 
but  he  was  equally  influenced  by  Hals,  Steen  and  Metsu. 
His  old  woman  "Keeping  Accounts"  is  reminiscent  of 
several  genre  painters  from  Quentin  Matsys  to  Rem- 
brandt. In  his  early  pictures  he  reminds  one  of  Pieter 
Aertz  as  well  as  Teniers,  the  Dutch  painters  of  cooks 
plucking  poultry,  stirring  soup,  and  cleaning  their  pots 
and  pans.  In  his  picture  of  fish  in  the  Ryks  Museum  of 
Amsterdam  he  is  as  fine  as  van  Beyeren. 

Philippe  Rousseau  was  purely  a  still-life  painter,  and 
in  this  branch  an  artist  of  higher  aims,  for  he  used  his 
still-life  for  splendid  decorative  compositions,  and  loved 
the  more  luxurious  things  of  life.  He  was  a  second 
Hondekoeter  in  his  large  decorations  of  birds,  poultry 
and  wildfowl,  another  Snyders  or  Fyt  in  his  composi- 
tions of  dead  game;  in  his  groups  of  fruit,  lobsters, 
oysters  and  fish  he  was  de  Heem  returned  to  life,  while 
in  his  rich  arrangements  of  Chinese  porcelain,  precious 
objects,  fruits  and  dainties,  it  was  as  if  Kalff  had  never 
died.  While  it  may  be  said  he  was  not  original,  yet  he 
was  not  a  servile  imitator  of  the  Dutch.  Compositions 
so  naturally  conceived  are  not  produced  by  imitation, 
nor  coloring  so  powerful  and  clear.  He,  after  all,  has 
the  freshness  of  a  modern,  and  a  rich,  if  deep,  tonality 
which  could  only  be  produced  from  original  observation. 
There  is  a  picture  by  him  in  the  Wilstach  Collection  of 
Philadelphia. 

VoUon,  while  belonging  to  this  group,  was  by  no  means 

[  128] 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

a  mere  Dutchman.  He  may  have  re-incarnated  from 
the  Low  Countries — but  then  Watteau  was  Flemish 
born.  There  is  something  of  the  lyrical,  the  fantastic 
about  him  as  there  was  about  Watteau.  Many  of  his 
pictures  are  scenes  of  that  poetic  world  where  Pierrot 
and  Pierrette  live  their  unreal  life  of  tragic  comedy. 

And  as  a  landscapist  VoUon  is  no  less  poetic.  A  farm- 
yard scene  of  his  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum  is  rich  in 
quality.  Not  of  the  plein-air  school,  it  is  less  a  bit  of  ac- 
curate observation  of  effect  of  light  than  it  is  an  ex- 
pression of  the  beauty  which  the  scene  revealed.  There 
are  landscapes  by  him  which  recall  the  Barbizon  manner 
of  Theodore  Rousseau. 

It  is  something  for  which  we  may  be  profoundly 
thankful  that  through  Vollon  the  old  Dutch  masters  did 
not  die  in  the  seventeenth  century.  Had  it  not  been  for 
him,  and  Ribot,  Bonvin,  Philippe  Rousseau,  we  would 
never  have  known  what  the  old  Dutchmen  would  have 
been  like  if  they  had  lived  in  France.  For  Vollon,  like 
Chardin,  is  after  all  French.  Compare  him  to  the  Ger- 
mans, Leutze,  Robbe,  Grube  or  Preyer — one  can  do  that 
in  the  New  York  Library — and  one  will  understand. 
These  men  too,  go  obviously  back  to  the  Dutch  school, 
but  what  stupidity  of  composition!  What  death  in  col- 
oring! Even  Munkacsy,  who  lived  in  France,  had  noth- 
ing of  VoUon's  spirit. 

Vollon's  still-life  in  the  New  York  Public  Library 
entitled  "Mappemonde"  is  one  of  his  important  works. 
Exhibited  in  the  Universal  Exposition  of  1900  it  re- 
ceived the  grand  prix.  It  shows  us  a  library  setting;  on 
a  carved  library  table  are  old  books,  papers,  writing  ma- 

[129] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

terials,  candlesticks  and  a  geographical  sphere.  The 
background  is  neutral.  The  whole  is  well  lighted,  with  a 
concentration  of  effect  upon  the  important  objects,  and 
the  objects  are  grouped  into  interesting  relationships  of 
shape  and  size,  and  the  coloring  rich  and  deep.  This, 
it  seems,  is  by  no  means  one  of  VoUon's  best  still-lives, 
but  it  strikes  one  forcibly  in  contrast  to  the  other  still- 
lives  in  the  Public  Library.  A  Desgoffe  in  the  same 
collection  is  an  interesting  contrast.  Desgoffe,  of  whom 
Geffroy  wrote,  "There  are  existences  which  have  truly 
touched  the  bottom  of  boredom,"  is  here  true  to  himself. 
It  is  a  canvas  showing  objects  of  art  used  by  Marie  An- 
toinette. It  is  indeed  a  collection  of  dead  things:  a 
harp,  a  clock,  Louis  XVI  furniture,  vases — frightful 
atrocities,  costly  but  ugly — the  coloring  is  a  clash  be- 
tween yellows  and  pinks. 

Desgoffe — how  thankful  too,  we  are  of  thee — example 
as  thou  art  of  all  that  still-life  painting  never  ought  to 
be!  He  would  have  been  far  better  the  illustrator  of 
a  catalogue  of  French  antiquities.  Another  picture  of 
his  in  the  Luxembourg — why  it  is  perpetuated  no  one 
knows — shows  a  collection  of  sixteenth  century  curios: 
a  rock  crystal  vase,  a  purse  of  Henry  II,  an  enamel  by 
Jean  Limousin.  It  is  not  worth  a  kettle  by  Antoine 
Vollon — perfect  imitation  of  the  objects  that  it  is.  His 
pictures  express  nothing — his  objects  have  no  beauty — 
no  matter  how  precious — for  they  have  no  color,  no  light 
or  shade,  no  texture — microscopic  in  accuracy  though 
they  be. 

This  little  digression  is  not  unwarranted  for  the  art  of 
Blaise-Desgoffe  is  worth  remembering  as  a  warning. 

[180] 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

His  pictures,  however,  should  be  taken  down  from  the 
art  galleries  and  put  in  the  show  cases  where  curios  are 
kept. 

VoUon  seems  to  be  best  remembered  for  his  fish.  A 
canvas  in  the  Luxembourg  shows  us  two  fish  against  a 
dark  background,  lying  on  a  table.  The  wetness,  the 
scaliness — the  slimyness  of  these  fish  is  unsurpass- 
able. But  this  is  not  enough — it  is  a  rich  harmony  from 
deep  tones.  Chase  undoubtedly  drew  inspiration  from 
such  a  picture  in  his  remarkable  still-lives  of  fish. 

Of  his  pots  and  pans  with  vegetables,  in  the  tradition 
of  Chardin,  there  are  many  excellent  examples.  One 
of  the  best  is  in  the  T.  G.  Arthur  Collection,  Scotland, 
entitled  "Plums."^  On  a  rough  table  there  is  a  large 
copper  kettle,  an  earthen  jug,  and  a  glass;  the  plums 
are  in  the  foreground.  One  can  visualize  readily  enough 
the  rich  coloring  of  the  picture  with  its  happy  combina- 
tion of  coppers,  ochres,  deep  greys  and  purples. 

The  Toledo  Museum  possesses  an  example  of  his 
flowers,  with  fruit  (Fig.  60).  It  is  one  of  the  most  im- 
pressionistic of  his  pictures,  painted  boldly  with  free  fluid 
strokes — there  is  nothing  hard,  dry  or  tight  about  it, 
and  in  such  a  picture  Vollon  shows  himself  to  have  been 
a  true  modem.  On  a  table  is  a  large  silver  repousse 
urn,  loosely  filled  with  roses  and  other  flowers,  some  of 
which  have  fallen  out  on  the  table.  On  a  plate  nearby 
are  some  oranges  and  a  knife,  and  behind,  a  decanter 
and  a  glass.  For  brilliancy,  for  luminosity,  this  rivals 
Manet.    In  design  it  closely  approaches  the  Japanese. 

9  Exhibited  in  the  Glasgow  Int.  Ex.    Reproduced  by  MacCoU,  "Nine- 
teenth Century  Art,"  p.  148. 

[131] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

In  the  Louvre  there  is  another  example  of  his  still- 
life  of  fruit,  this  time  as  a  breakfast  piece.  On  a  table, 
with  a  curtain  background,  there  is  a  white  porcelain 
plate  of  peaches  and  grapes,  with  grape  leaves;  behind 
there  is  a  tall  vase  and  a  high  champagne  glass.  The 
composition  is  exceedingly  rich  in  design  and  color,  and 
is  brilliantly  lighted. 

Of  an  entirely  different  character  is  the  VoUon  in  the 
Ryks  Museum,  Amsterdam,  of  a  red  earthen  crock  with 
flowers  (Fig.  61).  It  shows  with  what  simple  materials 
the  artist  could  produce  a  decorative  work.  This  is  a 
small  picture,  but  many  of  his  are  on  a  large  scale.  In  a 
private  collection  in  America  there  is  an  immense  canvas 
of  growing  asters  with  carnations.  They  appear  to  be 
out  of  doors.  One  can  well  imagine  what  a  sumptuous 
effect  the  artist  has  produced  with  these  white  and  pur- 
ple asters,  with  the  red  carnations  sparkling  in  their  bed 
of  green  leaves. 

Vollon  can  be  studied  in  the  Wilstach  Collection  in 
Philadelphia  where  there  is  another  large  picture  with  a 
bouquet  of  flowers  lying  on  a  table. 

VI 

Cezanne,  1839-1906 

Cezanne,  the  mysterious !  He  has  been  dead  for  more 
than  a  decade,  and  still  his  place  in  the  history  of  art 
is  in  doubt.  No  longer  scorned — he  gained  serious  con- 
sideration long  before  he  died — he  is  now  acclaimed  by 
the  Independents  as  the  leader  of  a  new  movement  in 
art,  the  father  of  the  art  of  the  future,  while  less  revo- 

[182] 


h-i     -H 

H    « 

O    w 
«    g 

O       « 

< 

l-I      PS 

o  ^ 

>  s 
5  5 

FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

lutionaiy  painters  and  critics  look  upon  him  as  an  ab- 
normal genius,  gifted,  sincere,  but  untrained  and  experi- 
mental, whose  notoriety  is  due  in  the  main  to  the  noise 
the  Post-Impressionists  have  made. 

Mysterious  indeed  he  is.  His  life  is  as  much  a  mys- 
tery as  his  art.  Unduly  sensitive  to  criticism,  he  fled 
the  city  and  sought  isolation  in  his  provincial  Aix  in 
Southern  France.  It  was  granted  him  by  an  all  too 
willing  public,  and  while  this  mildest-mannered  of  men 
worked  obscurely  and  painfully  at  his  experiments,  his 
enemies  branded  his  work  as  that  of  a  dangerous  per- 
son— an  anarchist. 

Cezanne's  artistic  development  was  a  curious  succes- 
sion of  revolts.  Untrained  in  any  academy  or  school  of 
art,  for  he  began  his  career  in  his  father's  bank,  he  tried 
to  learn  by  himself.  The  years  that  should  have  been 
spent  in  the  study  of  drawing,  he  spent  in  the  study  of 
law.  He  could  have  made  these  up,  but  from  the  first 
he  scorned  the  academicians  and  the  classicists  to  such 
an  extent,  that  he  deliberately  ignored  drawing.  He 
had  ideas  of  his  own  about  painting  which  prevented 
him  from  learning  much  from  others,  but  it  was  natural 
at  the  start  for  him  to  be  subject  to  influence.  The  first 
painter  to  influence  him  was  Delacroix,  then  came  Cour- 
bet,  then  Manet.  So  that  his  early  enthusiasms  fol- 
lowed the  succession  of  revolutions  that  occurred  in  art 
during  the  nineteenth  century.  Later  he  was  much  in- 
fluenced by  Pissarro,  Monet  and  the  Plein-Airists,  with 
whom  he  exhibited  in  1874.  From  this  time  on  he 
employed  the  brightest  colors,  and  sought  the  greatest 
gamut  that  his  palette  could  afford.    But  in  the  latter 

[  188  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

part  of  his  career  he  was  a  pure  independent,  discarding 
every  influence. 

This  was  what  he  was  after — to  cast  aside  every  pre- 
conceived theory — every  tradition  that  bound  the  art 
of  painting.  He  attempted,  therefore,  the  impossible. 
If  we,  if  any  one  of  us  who  attempts  anything  in  the 
creative  reahn  of  art,  should  endeavor  to  shut  our  eyes 
to  the  past,  even  to  the  surrounding  present  of  civiliza- 
tion, what  would  be  our  problem?  We  would  have  to 
forget  everything  we  ever  knew.  We  would  have  to 
return  to  our  childhood,  or  to  remain  a  child.  We  would 
be  forced  to  relinquish  our  philosophy,  which  un- 
consciously each  one  builds  for  himself,  wipe  out  from 
our  brains  every  memory  of  books  we  had  read,  every 
impression  of  pictures  we  had  seen.  In  other  words, 
we  would  have  to  take  the  point  of  view  of  a  savage. 

And  yet  what  would  we  not  give  for  this  childlike 
vision?  How  often,  sophisticated  mortals  that  we  are, 
would  we  not  give  all  that  we  possess  for  this  naivete? 
Cezanne's  pictures  sometimes  seem  to  show  us  this — and 
therein  is  the  chief  element  of  their  charm. 

Whether  it  is  landscape  or  the  figure  which  Cezanne 
represents,  it  is  landscape  or  the  figure  as  primitive  man 
would  see  it.  His  canvases  never  reflect  nature  or  man- 
kind as  any  previous  painter  has  seen  them.  Therefore 
they  are  so  strange.  His  biographer  states  that  Cezanne 
would  work  for  days  before  a  canvas,  out  of  doors  or  in 
the  studio,  studying  the  landscape  or  the  thing  before 
him,  trying  to  imderstand  its  structure,  its  form,  trying 
to  picture  it  on  canvas  as  a  form,  a  solid  mass.  Often- 
times his  experiment  was  left  unfinished.     Oftentimes 

[184] 


CEZANNE,  PEARS 

HOOOENDYK   COLLECTION,  THE    HAGUE 


CEZANNE,  STILL-LIFE 

HOOGENDYK   COLLECTION,  THE    HAGUE 


POTS  AND  PANS 

I  am  reminded  of  a  still-life  by  Cezanne  which  rep- 
resents a  table,  covered  with  a  white  cloth  on  which  are 
a  wineflask,  a  goblet,  an  earthen  jar,  some  apples  and 
a  knife.  The  background  is  plain  save  for  three  four- 
pointed  stars  like  a  pattern  on  the  wallpaper.  My  de- 
scription recalls  perhaps,  a  breakfast  piece  by  Claesz  or 
Heda,  Chaj-din  or  Manet — but  it  is  unhke  any  by  these 
men.  The  wine  flask  is  misshapen,  the  tablecloth  is 
crumpled  up  in  a  slovenly  way.  There  is  no  arrange- 
ment nor  design.  There  is  no  particular  scheme  of  light- 
ing nor  of  color.  Perhaps  its  lack  of  design  is  what  ob- 
trudes itself  most  conspicuously,  for  the  artist's  love  of 
literal  truthfulness  led  him  to  paint  things  as  they  oc- 
curred— going  a  step  further  than  Courbet.  He  painted 
all  the  accidents  in  the  things  in  front  of  him,  whereas 
any  other  painter  would  have  left  them  out  as  not  con- 
tributing to  the  decorative  eflPect. 

This  is  a  glaring  inconsistency  in  his  art,  for,  we  may 
well  ask,  if  he  discarded  literal  resemblance  to  form, 
why  not  eliminate  also  imnecessary  elements  in  a  compo- 
sition? But  when  we  consider  Cezanne's  coloring  we 
come  for  the  first  time  to  the  principal  force  in  the  pic- 
ture, for  these  yellows,  greens,  whites,  blues  and  browns 
are  the  words  Cezanne  used  to  express  his  realization  of 
the  objects.  It  is  with  these  that  the  painter  tries  to 
produce  volume  and  substance.  These  qualities  his  ob- 
jects have — the  glass,  transparency  with  cylindrical 
roundness,  the  apples  rotundity,  the  jar  mass.  "There 
is  no  such  thing  as  line,"  said  Cezanne,  "no  such  thing  as 
modelling.    There  are  only  contrasts,  when  color  attains 

[IM] 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

its  richness,  form  attains  its  plenitude.""  It  is  true,  what 
is  so  often  said,  that  Cezanne's  forms  are  solid,  one  can 
look  around  them.  That  is  why  he  places  purples  or 
blues  where  he  does,  or  reds  and  yellows,  not  because 
these  are  the  local  colors,  but  because  these  colors  placed 
as  they  are  give  the  effect  of  solidity  or  mass  which  he 
desired.  We  notice,  too,  that  some  of  his  objects — the 
jar,  the  plate,  have  heavy  black  outlines  around  them, 
while  others,  like  the  tablecloth,  the  glass,  have  none. 
These  accentuations,  or  lack  of  them,  have  the  same  pur- 
port as  the  color — to  give  the  proper  mass.  And  finally 
we  wonder  at  the  apparently  careless  way  in  which  the 
color  is  apphed,  the  pigment  thick  in  places,  the  canvas 
almost  bare  m  others.  This  process  also  adds  in  giving 
the  effect  of  relative  mass  or  substance  as  well  as  shim- 
mering effect  like  mosaic. 

There  are  the  greatest  discrepancies  between  the 
works  of  Cezanne  because  of  the  experimental  character 
of  so  many  of  them.  An  example  of  failure  in  every 
respect  is  a  still-life  of  his  with  a  table  on  which  is  a 
large  shell,  a  vase  and  a  cup  and  saucer,  in  a  room  where 
there  is  a  large  clock  against  the  wall.  The  glass  vase, 
the  cloth  on  the  table,  the  shell,  and  the  clock  are  all 
equally  fuzzy  and  look  as  if  they  were  made  of  wool.  Of 
course  no  one  need  believe  that  a  picture  must  have  "fin- 
ish" to  be  complete.  Cezanne  has  been  roundly  criticized 
because  of  the  unfinished  state  of  his  pictures.  Qiiim- 
porte?  A  picture,  however,  must  be  carried  far  enough 
to  give  the  objects  their  especial  character — that  char- 
acter which  Cezanne  himself  so  emphasized.    If  a  china 

11  Quoted  from  E.  Bernard, 

[137] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

cup  has  the  same  texture  as  a  tablecloth,  the  elemental 
character  of  these  objects  is  lost. 

Many  of  Cezanne's  still-lives  are  of  apples  or  other 
fruit,  in  plates  and  dishes,  on  a  table,  which  is  generally 
covered  with  a  cloth,  all  against  a  background  of  a  com- 
plex character,  gay  wall  paper,  or  the  interior  of  a  room. 
A  good  example  is  in  the  Christiania  Museum.  There 
is  a  luxury  of  color  about  these  pictures  that  is  truly  de- 
lightful. Thick  and  pure,  rich  and  gay,  they  are  not 
softened  by  any  intervening  atmosphere.  Subtle  effects 
of  sunlight,  flickering  rays  or  stray  beams  never  dance 
capriciously  about  them.  Apples  are  green,  tablecloths 
are  white,  and  that  is  all  there  is  to  be  said.  You  must 
like  them  as  you  like  the  gaudy  garments  of  a  negro,  or 
the  gay  blankets  of  a  Navajo. 

Perhaps  one  of  Cezanne's  best  still-lives  is  in  the  Ber- 
lin National  Gallery.  It  is  less  chaotic  than  most  of  his, 
in  fact  an  orderly  arrangement,  unified,  well-balanced 
and  concentrated.  On  a  small  table  partly  covered  by 
a  crumpled  white  cloth,  is  a  ginger  jar  filled  with  various 
flowers.  On  the  tablecloth  are  a  few  pears.  All  the 
objects  are  well  dravni.  The  background  is  unobtrusive. 
One  feels  that  it  is  accomplished. 

The  plastic  quality  of  Cezanne's  objects  has  often 
been  insisted  upon,  but  I  do  not  believe  the  aesthetic 
value  of  his  picture  depends  upon  this.  Their  plastic 
quality  is  evident  only  to  those  who  understand  Ce- 
zanne's special  symbolism  of  receding  and  advancing 
colors.  It  is  therefore  an  intellectual  and  not  an  aes- 
thetic enjoyment  which,  in  this  respect,  they  give.  They 
have,  of  course,  no  design — ^no  decorative  quality,  as 

[138] 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

none  was  intended.  As  for  the  backgrounds,  they  are 
not  back  of  the  objects,  for  the  distortions  in  perspective 
often  make  the  distant  objects  jump  out  of  place. 

There  is  one  nature  morte  of  Cezanne's  with  a  collec- 
tion of  pots  and  plates  and  a  growing  plant  on  a  table 
covered  with  a  white  cloth.  The  table  is  a  rough  affair — 
a  common  white  kitchen  table.  Chardin  would  have 
seen  its  beauty.  Cezanne  saw  its  ugliness.  The  table- 
cloth is  a  crumpled  mass.  Chardin,  like  the  Dutchmen, 
saw  in  a  kitchen  towel  a  surface  for  the  subtle  play  of 
delicate  lights  and  shadows;  Cezanne  treats  his  linen 
like  so  much  plaster  fallen  from  the  ceiling.  Only  to 
this  extent  is  it  plastic.  His  pots  and  pans  are  interest- 
ing as  masses,  but  they  annoy  one  by  their  shapelessness. 
The  flower  in  the  flower  pot  seems  made  of  colored  clay 
— a  sculptor's  sketch.  All  these  objects  are  seen,  ap- 
parently, from  above.  Behind  them,  in  the  picture,  is 
the  floor  of  the  room,  with  a  bit  of  stretcher  lying  on 
the  floor,  and  behind  that  the  wainscoting  of  the  wall. 
Most  of  this  is  superfluous  material  which  detracts  from 
the  unity  of  the  picture. 

The  above-described  canvas  is  undoubtedly  a  study 
of  planes,  horizontal  or  vertical,  receding  or  advancing. 
This  brings  us  to  the  question,  is  such  a  representation 
an  end,  an  aim  in  art?  What  is  the  aesthetic  value  of 
volume  and  mass  in  art?    Of  mere  plastic  quality? 

Let  us  admit  that  these  things  have  their  importance, 
but  the  pleasure  which  is  derived  from  these  is  not  a 
purely  aesthetic  one. 

There  are  so  many  other  things  that  are  more  im- 
portant— things  of  the  spirit.    Cezanne's  art  is  plainly 

[139] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

materialistic,  concerned  with  experiments  of  a  purely 
materialistic  kind.  His  experiments,  his  theories  have 
led  to  abstract  discussions  of  new  quasi-scientific 
theories.  His  art  has  led  to  cubism,  futurism,  symbol- 
ism, and  what  not.  We  admire  Cezanne's  sincerity,  his 
hard  work,  his  powerful  daring.  We  admire,  too,  his 
struggle  for  the  expression  of  what  he  considered  reality. 
But  had  he  sought  the  reality  which  lies  beyond  matter 
— ^that  reality  which  is  seen  with  the  imagination — by  the 
spiritual  eye — ^he  could  not  have  been  the  Frenhofer  that 
he  was. 

He  has  been  called  a  Fauve.  It  is  not  a  bad  name. 
He  was  a  man  to  whom  it  should  have  been  said,  "In 
quietness  and  in  confidence  shall  be  your  strength,"  an 
admonition  applicable  to  all  the  Fauves  in  art. 

VII 

Impbessionism  and  Post-Impkessionism  in 
French  Still-Life  Painting 

The  work  of  Eduard  Manet  prepared  us  for  that  of 
his  contemporary,  Claude  Monet.  With  the  former  we 
became  accustomed  to  a  new  vision — we  learned  to  see 
color,  vivid  color,  in  mass.  With  the  latter  we  learn  to 
see  light,  scintillating,  vibrating  light.  "Plein-airism" 
has  now  become  accepted  as  a  principle,  and  we  can 
hardly  realize  that  the  pictures  of  Monet  were  once  tests 
upon  one's  eyesight,  at  a  time  when  the  eyes  of  most 
people  were  used  only  to  studio  darkness. 

Still-life  painting  was  not  the  interest  to  Monet  that 
it  was  to  Manet,  to  Fantin-Latour   or   to    Cezanne. 

[  140  ] 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

Manet  had  the  Dutchman's  love  for  the  surface  value 
of  objects;  Fantin-Latour  the  instinct  for  the  spiritual 
value  of  fruit  or  of  flowers ;  Cezanne  sought  but  did  not 
find  the  hard  reality  of  the  commonplace.  Monet,  how- 
ever, pursued  the  light  that  played  about  things.  For 
this  reason  he  is  chiefly  a  landscapist.  But  he  painted 
a  few  still-lives  of  extraordinary  charm. 

We  cannot  be  too  grateful  to  Monet.  Never  again 
can  painters  refuse  to  see  the  brightness  and  glory  of 
light  itself.  "Beauty,"  said  Plotinus  two  thousand 
years  ago,  "is  a  light  that  plays  about  things.  It  does 
not  consist  in  the  things  themselves,"  and  while  the 
great  masters  of  painting  felt  this  instinctively  through- 
out the  centuries,  its  full  meaning  was  not  reaUzed  until 
Monet  revealed  it  (Fig.  65). 

Monet's  still-lives  are  visions  of  light  and  color,  given 
form.  They  are  not  colored  forms  lighted  from  with- 
out. Herein  lies  the  great  distinction  between  his  art 
and  the  art  of  luminists  of  previous  epochs.  Like  his 
landscapes,  they  seem  to  be  snatches  of  a  scene,  caught 
while  a  shower  of  multi-colored  rays  burst  down  upon 
them.  I  recall  a  basket  of  fruit  upon  a  table,  with 
melons,  apples  and  grapes  scattered  about.  It  was  a 
decoration  in  the  sense  that  a  well-ordered  garden  of 
yellow,  white  and  purple  flowers  is  a  decoration,  because 
rich  in  design  and  color.  But  it  was  more  than  that, 
it  was  a  revelation  of  a  new  emotion  which  light  and  color 
can  give. 

Among  the  many  modem  painters  of  France  who 
have  been  influenced  by  the  impressionism  of  Manet 

[  141  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

and  Monet,  Emil  Jacques  Blanche  is  conspicuous  as  a 
still-life  painter.  In  his  portraiture  sometimes  his  inter- 
est in  still-life  accessories  overreaches  his  interest  in  his 
sitter.  In  nearly  all  of  his  canvases  it  is  evident  he  loves 
to  introduce  lacquer  screens,  bowls  of  flowers,  ornamental 
objects  and  the  furnishings  of  his  rooms.  Sometimes  he 
paints  interiors  without  figures.  We  cannot  say  that 
there  is  much  decorative  design  in  these  pictures.  He 
paints  what  he  sees  without  sufficient  selection  so  that 
his  interiors  seem  crowded.  But  brilliant  and  colorful 
they  are  beyond  description. 

He  has  also  painted  pure  still-lives,  generally  with 
great  masses  of  flowers  (Figs.  66  and  67).  In  composi- 
tion they  recall  some  of  the  still-lives  of  Courbet  and  of 
Vollon.  In  other  respects,  however,  they  are  impres- 
sionistic. Executed  in  his  premier  coup  manner,  they 
are  fresh,  spontaneous  and  luminous,  if  lacking  in  de- 
sign. 

An  interesting  modem  art  is  that  of  Mme.  Sybil 
Meugens.  Her  pictures  could  never  have  been  painted 
before  the  time  of  Manet,  Fantin-Latour  and  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Japanese.  They  are  first  of  all  arrangements 
of  objects  choice  and  beautiful  in  themselves — Chinese 
vases,  Japanese  carvings,  rich  embroideries  and  oh  jets 
d'art.  With  these  she  combines  flowers  into  a  composi- 
tion which  is  clearly  Japanese  with  its  contrast  of  packed 
detail  against  open  spacing.  All  this  is  broadly  handled 
with  an  understanding  of  the  value  of  pure  paint  flowing 
from  a  full  brush  backed  by  a  firm  hand.  There  is  a 
very  close  resemblance  between  her  work  and  a  few  of 
our  American  women  still-life  painters. 

[  142  ] 


J.  E.  BLANCHE,  BLUE  HYDRANGEAS 


J.  E.  BLANCH  i 
WHITE   PEONIES,  LUSTRE  JUG,   AND   RED   LACQUER    BOX 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

Thus  far  we  have  not  discussed  the  influence  of  Ce- 
zanne upon  recent  still-Hfe  painting.  Whatever  may  be 
thought  of  this  influence,  it  has  been  considerable  and 
cannot  be  ignored.  One  of  the  serious  painters  to  be 
influenced  by  independent  theories  is  Fehx  Vallaton. 
He  was  at  one  time  associated  with  Gauguin,  Maurice 
Denis  and  the  Pont-Aven  school.  Although  an  inde- 
pendent, we  can  hardly  term  him  an  ultra  modern;  he 
has  not  revolted  from  the  historic  traditions  of  painting. 
He  suddenly  became  known  a  few  years  ago  for  his 
portraits  and  interiors  engraved  on  wood  with  great  sim- 
plicity and  decorative  quality. 

As  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  study  his  work,  his  still- 
life  paintings  impress  me  as  the  most  decorative  things 
he  has  done.  Their  simplicity  approaches  closely  the 
flower  studies  of  Fantin-Latour,  for  he  shows  a  perfect 
knowledge  of  design,  of  the  principle  of  selection.  Yet 
they  are  bolder  in  color  than  Fantin's,  very  fluidly 
painted,  clear  and  bright.  Vallaton  is  an  example  of  the 
modern  French  artist  who,  being  thoroughly  familiar 
with  Post-Impressionist  movements,  and  sympathetic 
with  them,  prefers  to  cling  to  what  is  good  in  the  old 
while  embracing  what  is  virile  in  the  new.  His  art  is  a 
reproof  to  mannerism  and  eccentricity. 

Eduard  Vuillard  is  a  painter  of  interiors  like  those  of 
Pierre  Bonnard,  except  that  Vuillard's  interiors  are  ex- 
tremerly  quiet  and  simple.  There  may  or  there  may  not 
be  figures  introduced;  if  so,  they  are  treated  like  still- 
life  objects;  and  sometimes  Vuillard  does  pure  still-life 
studies,  groups  of  mere  objects.  He  approaches  Ce- 
zanne more  closely  than  any  other  Independent  and  has 

[  143  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

little  in  common  with  the  violent  revolutionary  tenden- 
cies of  men  like  Matisse.  His  independence  consists  in 
a  matter  of  fact  disregard  for  drawing;  but  distortion 
of  objects  is  not  with  him  an  end  in  itself.  One  of  his 
still-life  interiors  is  in  the  Luxembourg  and  is  called  "At 
Luncheon."  It  shows  an  intimate  picture  of  a  lower 
class  home ;  there  is  no  finesse,  no  love  for  prettiness,  no 
sentiment.  There  is,  however,  in  its  patchworklike  col- 
oring the  same  decorative  result  that  Cezanne  obtained 
by  his  mosaic  technique.  Such  pictures  seem  like 
sketches  of  a  gifted  colorist  to  be  used  later  in  a  finished 
picture,  yet  Vuillard  intends  no  more  than  to  suggest. 
Vallaton  and  Eduard  Vuillard  are  claimed  by  the 
revolutionists  in  art  as  members  of  their  cult.  It  is  true 
both  men  are  sympathizers  of  this  movement,  and  their 
association  with  Bonnard,  Maurice  de  Vlaminck  and 
others  has  added  to  their  revolutionary  reputation.  But 
Vuillard  should  be  termed  a  protestant,  which  nowadays 
is  a  much  more  respectable  name. 

It  is  always  difficult  for  the  art  historian  to  be  appre- 
ciative of  the  new  art  movements  (should  they  be  so- 
called?)  of  his  own  times.  His  historic  viewpoint  tends 
to  make  him  judge  by  traditional  standards.  And  yet 
his  studies  should  clearly  teach  him  that  during  the 
centuries  every  reform  was  of  the  nature  of  a  revolu- 
tion, perhaps  slow  and  peaceful,  but  oftentimes  painful. 
There  were  always  conservative  elements  entrenched  as 
upholders  of  an  older  order,  against  which  the  progress- 
ives had  to  fight.  During  the  last  century  these  changes, 
protestations,  revolts,  reforms — whatever  one  chooses  to 

[  144  ] 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

call  them — occurred  with  such  ever  increasing  rapidity 
that  the  art  critic  had  scarcely  time  to  become  accus- 
tomed to  one  revolution  when  a  new  one  began. 

The  two  decades  of  this  present  century  have  intro- 
duced a  series  of  new  experiments  in  art.  The  ultra- 
modern movements  cannot  be  called  more  than  experi- 
ments, for  they  are  attempts  to  introduce  pure  symbol- 
ism in  art,  to  bring  to  a  close  the  epoch  ushered  in  by 
Giotto,  and  by  retracing  the  steps  of  progress  through 
the  Byzantine  period  and  through  the  Oriental,  to  return 
finally  to  the  hieroglyphs  of  ancient  Egypt. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  experiments  cannot  but  be  pain- 
ful to  a  public  with  an  historic  consciousness,  for  they 
are  abrogations  of  the  principle  of  life  which  is  based 
upon  the  preservation  and  not  upon  the  destruction  of 
the  accomplishements  of  the  human  race. 

S5Tnbolism,  itself,  is  nothing  new  in  art.  When 
frankly  professed,  it  may  have  a  deep  mystical  meaning 
such  as  Byzantine  art  at  its  best  did  have.  But  our 
modem  symbolists  are  at  the  same  time  distortionists; 
they  suggest  that  symbolism  implies  distortionism,  and 
in  this  they  court  criticism.  It  is  a  question  whether  the 
distortion  of  objects  has  any  aesthetic  value  in  itself. 
In  the  primitives  we  can  condone  it,  for  with  all  their 
misimderstanding  of  form,  they  were  struggling  for 
mastery;  it  is  the  struggle  which  we  admire. 

Henri  Matisse  began  his  career  in  the  Ecole  des 
Beaux  Arts.  At  first  he  painted  in  the  normal  aca- 
demic fashion.  The  French  government  employed  him 
for  ten  years  to  make  copies  of  the  old  masters  in  the 
Louvre.     He  therefore  had  the  solid  foimdation  de- 

[  145] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

manded  of  a  good  artist  in  drawing,  composition  and 
technique.  In  1913  he  had  a  class  of  sixty  pupils  whom 
he  made  to  study  drawing  and  go  through  the  stiff  aca- 
demic training  which  he  regarded  to  be  essential  for  a 
firm  foundation. 

It  was  while  he  was  copying  in  the  Louvre  that 
Matisse  discovered  for  himself  that  the  classics  had  be- 
come a  fetich.  He  began  to  feel  that  art  needed  a  great 
change.  If  the  present  day  were  to  produce  anything 
original  in  art,  he  felt  that  painters  must  throw  over- 
board the  whole  tradition  of  the  past,  and  start  over 
again,  become  again  primitive. 

He  then  became  interested  in  the  wood  carvings  of 
African  negroes,  the  sculpture  of  the  natives  of  Poly- 
nesia and  Java  and  of  the  Peruvian  and  Mexican  In- 
dians. From  them  he  obtained  the  incentive  to  seek  a 
primitive  vision  of  form  and  of  color.  He  became  also 
affected  by  Persian  art,  by  the  patterns  and  designs  of 
'  the  Orient.  Many  of  his  pictures  show  a  certain  amount 
of  Oriental  decorativeness.  With  no  attempt  at  Natur- 
alism, they  are  flat  patches  of  color — pure,  raw  color — 
and  as  such  they  are  to  an  extent,  decorations. 

One  of  his  still-lives,  exhibited  at  the  Montross  gal- 
leries in  New  York  in  1915,  shows  an  interior  with  a 
window  through  which  we  look  out  upon  a  city  street. 
By  the  window  is  a  table  with  a  bowl  of  goldfish  and  a 
flower  pot.  Behind  the  table  is  a  sofa  with  pillows,  and 
in  the  extreme  foreground  is  another  table  with  a  bowl 
upon  it.  It  is  very  easy  to  tell  what  all  these  objects 
are.  To  that  extent  they  are  not  symbolic,  but  why 
they  are  painted  is  a  mystery,  for  so  clumsy  is  the  draw- 

[  146] 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

ing,  that  there  is  no  beauty  to  the  objects.  There  is  no 
perspective,  no  atmosphere,  no  light.  Color,  of  course, 
there  is,  but  it  does  not  impress  one.  It  appears  to  be 
the  purpose  of  the  picture  to  suggest  or  to  symbolize  a 
group  of  objects  and  it  is  left  to  the  beholder's  mind  to 
picture  their  actual  beauty. 

This  lack  of  objective  beauty  in  the  pictures  of 
Matisse,  makes  one  question  whether  this  is  an  art  for 
the  eye.  It  seems  rather  an  art  for  the  mind.  To  im- 
derstand  these  creations,  one  has  to  indulge  a  trifle  too 
much  in  psychologic  and  philosophic  speculation,  and 
one  is  often  driven  to  the  conclusion  that  this  is  not  an 
art  at  all,  but  a  kind  of  science. 

In  1913  James  Huneker  wrote,  "Paris  is  always  the 
prey  of  the  dernier  cri,  and  Matisse,  unless  he  has  been 
ousted  during  the  last  month,  is  not  only  the  latest  cry 
but  we  hope  the  ultimate  scream."  The  distortionists 
individually  cannot  be  taken  seriously,  but  the  symbolist 
movement,  of  which  they  form  a  part,  will  undoubtedly 
claim  serious  attention.  Already  out  of  the  experiments 
of  a  few  ultra-moderns  there  is  developing  a  new  mode 
of  expression  which  is  influencing  and  has  influenced  a 
great  body  of  artists. 

Finally,  at  the  close  of  our  chapter  on  French  still- 
life  painting  we  come  to  a  group  of  "Independents"  with 
whom  still-lives  appear  to  be  the  most  popular  subjects. 
I  refer  to  the  Cubists. 

"Cubism"  is  a  cult  which  professes  "the  joy  of  con- 
fining unhmited  art  within  the  limits  of  a  single  pic- 
ture." A  still-life  picture  by  a  Cubist  is  an  arrange- 
ment of  a  number  of  pictures  upon  one  canvas.    The 

[  147] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

third  dimension  is  overcome.  Let  us  take  Pablo  Picas- 
so's "Nature  Morte  Espagnole"  of  1912.  At  first  sight 
it  looks  Uke  an  impression  of  a  photographic  plate  which 
has  been  exposed  several  times,  and  printed  in  color. 
And  so  it  looks  at  second  sight  and  at  third  sight.  There 
appear  to  be  bottles,  glasses,  dumb-bells,  sheets  of  paper, 
books  and  photographs,  distorted,  jumbled  together  and 
confused.  In  back  of  it  all  is  the  artistic  intention  to 
picture  a  multitude  of  impressions  which  these  objects 
give  him.  It  is  true  that  a  group  of  objects  give  one  an 
infinite  number  of  sensations.  If  seen  from  different 
angles  in  different  lights,  they  vary.  "Objects  have  not 
one  absolute  form  but  many."  Objects  also  can  suggest 
an  infinite  number  of  associations.  A  wine  bottle  sug- 
gests flowing  liquor.  If  it  can  be  painted  corked  and 
standing  up,  while  at  the  same  time  open,  tilted  and 
pouring  wine,  there  is  that  much  more  to  be  enjoyed. 

The  truth  of  this  philosophy  cannot  be  denied,  but 
whether  it  be  the  province  of  art  to  record  a  conflict  of 
sensations  is  another  question. 

The  Cubists  have  no  common  principle  which  guides 
their  work,  they  revolt  against  any  system,  hence  their 
methods  differ.  Picasso,  Metzinger,  Leger,  Gleizes  and 
Picabia  are  the  most  kaleidoscopic  in  their  results. 
Derain  appears  to  be  the  most  logical  in  the  application 
of  Cubist  theories.  His  pictures  are  composite,  that  is, 
there  is  more  than  one  visualization  of  the  objects  in 
them,  they  are  "mixed  images,"  to  use  a  Cubist  term. 
But  he  differs  from  most  of  his  confreres  in  being  com- 
paratively simple.  As  a  still-life  painter  he  seems  to  be 
more  interested  in  objects  themselves  and  less  in  a  men- 

[  148  ] 


FRENCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

tal  analysis  of  his  own  sensations  concerning  them.  In 
his  pictures  objects  partly  respond  to  one's  normal  per- 
ception of  them.  The  effect  is  spiritistic.  They  are 
ghost  pictures.  Tables  and  flower  pots  are  semi-invis- 
ible. We  cannot  conveniently  see  what  is  hidden  behind 
or  within  them.  But  without  effort  we  can  tell  that  they 
are  flower  pots  and  tables,  and  for  that  in  a  Cubist  pic- 
ture, we  must  be  thankful. 

These  Cubistic  still-lives  have  one  interest  for  us,  in 
that  they  represent  the  extreme  radical  tendency  of  one 
wing  of  the  revolutionary  movement  in  art.  This  is 
their  value  in  a  history  of  still-life  painting  and  they 
have  no  other. 


[149] 


CHAPTER  6 

Chinese  and  Japanese  Still-Life  Painting 


CHAPTER  6 


Chinese  Flower  Painting 

It  is,  perhaps,  somewhat  stretching  the  limits  of  our 
subject  to  include  Far-Eastern  fruit  and  flower  paint- 
ing. Chinese  and  Japanese  painting  is  essentially  con- 
ventional, far  removed  in  spirit  from  the  naturalism  of 
the  West.  Moreover,  it  employs,  for  the  most  part, 
growing  fruits  or  flowers.  If  we  make  a  distinction  in 
our  study  of  still-life  painting  between  live  and  dead 
animals,  should  we  not  consistently  make  the  same  dis- 
tinction between  growing  and  cut  flowers?  Such  dis- 
tinctions, however,  are  difficult  to  maintain.  While 
Chinese  and  Japanese  artists  attempted,  as  a  rule,  the. 
representation  of  growing  plants,  yet  they  did  a  great 
deal  of  what  we  must  term  still-life  painting.  What- 
ever may  be  our  conclusions  on  this  point,  the  Far-East 
has  exercised  so  great  an  influence  on  modem  still-Ufe 
painting  in  the  West  that  the  latter  can  hardly  be  un- 
derstood without  a  knowledge  of  what  this  influence 
means. 

[  158  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

We  in  the  West  have  become  so  accustomed  to  admit- 
ting that  what  seems  new  and  surprising  to  us  is  as  old 
as  history  to  the  East,  that  we  forget  the  significance  of 
the  admission.  Of  all  that  is  vital  to  culture,  this  is 
especially  true,  and  therefore  true  of  art.  Western 
archaeologists  have  been  fond  of  pointing  out,  in  defense 
of  the  Occident,  what  Chinese  and  Indian  art  owes  to  the 
Hellenistic.  But  Hellenistic  art  is  a  mixture  itself  of 
Asiatic  and  Greek  elements,  and  if  China  owes  anything 
to  this  art,  it  is  because  it  in  turn  reflects  the  ancient 
Assyrian  and  Babylonian.  Asiatic  art  is  something 
peculiar  to  the  geographic  background  against  which  it 
flourished,  and  through  all  the  centuries  of  development 
it  breathed  a  spirit  as  remote  from  that  of  European  art 
as  the  nature  of  the  Asiatic  peoples  is  remote  from  that 
of  the  European. 

I  refer  to  the  precociousness  of  eastern  art  because  in 
China,  as  early  as  the  Tang  Dynasty,  618-906  A.  D., 
landscape  art  was  practiced,  and  appreciated  for  itself, 
indeed  given  a  very  high  place  in  the  realm  of  art,  as  it 
never  had  anywhere  in  the  West  until  the  nineteenth 
century.  Not  long  afterward,  this  interest  in  trees  and 
birds  and  flowers,  grew  into  or  led  to  an  interest  in  piu*e 
flower  painting  or  still-life. 

There  is  always  a  difficulty  on  the  part  of  a  Westerner 
in  understanding  Chinese  art.  This  is  due,  for  the  most 
part,  to  our  ignorance  of  its  historic  background.  To 
appreciate  a  French  or  an  English  painting  is  easy 
for  us,  for,  unconsciously,  we  see  it  against  its  whole 
historic  background.  We  are  used  to  chiaroscuro  be- 
cause every  picture  from  Masaccio  down  to  our  own 

[154] 


CHINESE  AND  JAPANESE  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

days  has  possessed  it,  more  or  less.  We  are  used  to  a 
third  dimension  because  the  West  has  accepted  Giotto's 
way  of  painting.  We  have  our  own  ideas  about  natur- 
aHsm  in  art,  borrowed  from  remote  classic  times.  So, 
if  we  are  normal  Westerners,  not  reincarnated  from  the 
East,  we  find  it  well-nigh  impossible  to  enjoy,  at  first, 
a  Chinese  or  Japanese  work  of  art.  We  may,  perhaps, 
appreciate  its  decorative  qualities,  but  we  absolutely 
refrain  from  seeking  its  subtle  qualities  of  line  and 
rhythm. 

Since  Whistler  and  Manet  we  have  learned  much,  but 
still  I  believe  the  above  statement  is  in  the  main  correct. 

Let  us  take  for  a  challenge  a  painting  by  Ririomin 
(Li  Lung-mien),  or  by  Mu  Ch'i  (Mokkei),  both  artists 
of  the  best  period  of  Chinese  art — that  period  which  set 
the  standard  for  all  succeeding  ages,  and  produced  a 
style  that  is  reflected  in  the  humblest  fan  or  Japanese 
print.  A  famous  painting  by  Li  Lung-mien  is  his 
"Yuima"  or  Buddhist  philosopher.  We  see  him  seated 
in  abstract  meditation.  It  seems  nothing  more  than 
a  drawing  with  no  realistic  surroundings  of  any  kind. 
The  figure  is  placed  against  the  background  of  softly 
tinted  paper.  It  has  no  cast  shadows.  The  hands  and 
face  are  unshaded.  The  wrapped  figure  seems  like  a 
phantom;  it  is  not  solid,  it  is  a  ghost.  In  truth,  it  is 
the  spirit  of  the  great  philosopher.  Mu  Ch'i's  famous 
"Kwannon"  may  be  taken  as  another  example.  Again 
it  is  the  symbol,  this  time  of  the  serene  Deity  which  we 
see.  As  if  floating  in  mid-air,  the  figure  is  seated,  legs 
crossed,  upon  a  rock  by  the  waterside.  Her  draperies, 
her  features,  are  indicated  merely  by  expressive  brush 

[155] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

lines,  in  ink,  upon  the  tinted  background.  The  rocks, 
the  water,  are  but  suggested.  The  rest  is  left  to  our 
imagination. 

The  nearest  approach  we  have  to  this  kind  of  paint- 
ing in  the  West  is  in  the  early  Byzantine  Illuminations. 
The  work  of  Pollaiuolo  or  of  Botticelli  approaches  it 
closely,  but  the  pictures  of  these  artists  are  not  paintings 
at  all,  in  the  Western  sense,  but  tinted  line  drawings. 
Western  painting  in  reality  shows  no  relation  to  the 
Chinese.  The  reason  for  this  lies  partly  in  the  funda- 
mental principle  of  Oriental  art,  far  different  from  any- 
thing in  historical  European  art,  that  art  should  not  aim 
to  reproduce  the  actual  outward  appearance  of  things, 
with  their  tactile  and  spacial  values,  volume,  third  di- 
mension, etc.,  but  to  express  the  emotion  that  they  create 
in  the  artist.  In  other  words,  there  is  a  mystical  idea 
underlying  the  whole  matter. 

If  we  today  can  understand  this — it  is  because  we 
live  in  an  age  which  has  been  influenced  by  Japanese 
art.  It  is  doubtful  if  a  tenebrist  of  the  Renaissance 
could  have  understood  it,  and  certainly  not  a  realist  of 
the  type  of  Courbet. 

The  principle  was  explained  by  the  eleventh  century 
Chinese  essayist  and  painter  Kuo  Hsi.  He  asked,  "Why 
is  it  that  virtuous  men  love  landscape  painting?"  He 
answered  that  it  was  because  the  phenomena  of  nature 
responded  to  certain  needs  of  the  human  soul,  and  a 
picture  of  mountauis  and  springing  waterfalls,  with 
flowers  nestled  in  the  crags,  would  lead  men  "away  from 
the  noisiness  of  the  dusty  world  and  the  locked-in-ness 
of  human  habitations."    In  a  word,  it  freed  the  soul. 

[156] 


CHINESE  AND  JAPANESE  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

"A  mountain  is  a  mighty  thing,"  he  said,  "hence  its 
shape  ought  to  be  high  and  steep,  freely  disposing  itself 
like  a  man  at  ease,  or  standing  up  with  grandeur  or 
crouching  down  hke  a  farmer's  boy." 

"Rocks  are  the  bones  of  the  heaven  and  earth,  and, 
being  noble,  are  hard  and  deep.  Rocks  and  forests,  in 
paintings,  should  preeminently  have  reason.  One  big 
pine  is  to  be  painted  first,  called  the  master  patriarch, 
and  miscellaneous  trees,  grass,  creepers,  pebbles  and 
rocks,  as  subjects  under  his  supervision,  as  a  wise  man 
over  his  petty  men." 

These  sayings,  and  others,  prove  to  us  how  every  char- 
acteristic form  in  nature  may  be  compared  to  a  state  of 
mind,  as  Fenellosa  writes,  how,  for  instance,  the  wonder- 
ful twisted  trees,  mighty  mountain  pines  and  cedars, 
loved  by  these  early  Chinese  and  later  Japanese,  really 
exhibit  the  deep  philosopher  in  their  great  knots  and 
scaly  Hmbs  that  have  wrestled  with  storms  and  frosts 
and  earthquakes,  undergoing  a  process  almost  identical 
with  man's  life,  struggling  with  enemies,  misfortunes 
and  pain.  Thus  nature  becomes  a  vast  and  picturesque 
world  for  the  profound  study  of  character,  and  nature 
is  not  a  subject  to  be  copied,  but  to  be  used  as  material 
for  the  artist  as  he  pleases.  Why  should  the  artist  care 
whether  his  picture  imitates  nature  if  his  trees  are  tree- 
like and  his  men  manly?  But  philosophical  considera- 
tions, alone,  did  not  influence  the  form  of  Chinese  art. 
The  technique  of  Chinese  painting  has  perhaps  as  much 
to  do  with  it. 

From  the  very  earliest  times  the  Chinese  painted  on 
silk  and  on  paper,  as  well  as  on  the  surface  of  walls. 

[157] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

But  we  might  say  that  the  roll  or  screen  of  silk  is  to 
Chinese  painting  what  canvas  is  to  European  painting. 
This  is  the  surface — delicate  and  frail,  which  does  more 
than  anything  else  to  give  a  unique  character  to  Chinese 
art.  Beautiful  in  itself,  and  costly,  obviously  it  should 
not  be  hidden  behind  layers  of  paint.  Therefore,  either 
white  or  tinted,  the  silk  should  show.  Upon  this  the 
brushwork  is  to  be  done — but  what  kind? 

The  analogy  between  Chinese  writing  and  Chinese 
painting  is  very  close,  and  Chuiese  artists  have  often 
referred  to  the  similarity.  Writing  was  regarded  as  an 
art.  From  their  writing  done  with  a  brush,  the  Chinese 
developed  a  skill  in  brush  work  that  we  can  hardly  ap- 
preciate. Painting  began  with  the  thin  brush  stroke 
like  a  pen  line,  with  ink  for  a  medium,  upon  the  silk. 
We  would  call  it  drawing,  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that 
a  brush  was  used.  Then,  according  to  the  fancy  of  the 
artist,  or  the  taste  of  the  period  in  which  he  worked,  the 
lines  would  be  filled  in,  sometimes  with  pale,  sometimes 
with  rich  color  and  gold,  or  with  ink-washes,  producing 
monochromes. 

So  it  is  the  brush  stroke  that  gives  Chinese  painting 
its  final  character;  therefore  it  is  by  what  the  brush  can 
do,  with  its  fine  hair  line,  its  sweeping  curves,  its  subtle 
modulations,  its  dehcate  shading  upon  the  silk,  that  we 
must  judge  Chinese  painting,  technically.  The  Chinese 
have  throughout  all  their  history  accepted  the  line  as  a 
convention  for  their  art.  The  problem  for  us  is  to  see 
what  they  did  with  it.  Fenellosa  has  expressed  the 
Chinese  feeling  in  painting  thus :  "It  is  not  things  that 
we  want  in  art,  but  the  beauty  of  things;  and  if  this 

[158] 


CHINESE  AND  JAPANESE  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

beauty  dwells  largely  in  their  line,  their  boundaries  of 
space,  their  proportions  and  shapes,  and  the  unity  and 
system  of  the  line  rhythms  it  is  a  glorious  convention 
that  can  seize  on  just  that  and  make  supreme  music  out 
of  it." 

The  artist  who  did  most  to  make  this  technique  the 
means  of  expression  par  excellence  in  China  was  Wu 
Tao  Tzu,  called  in  Japanese  Godoshi,  a  man  placed  by 
Chinese  critics  "at  the  head  of  all  Chinese  painting  an- 
cient or  modern."  He  flourished  in  the  Tang  Dynasty 
between  713-735  A.  D.  His  name  is  worth  noting  in 
our  study  of  still-life  painting  because  he  was  one  of  the 
founders  of  monochrome  painting — a  style  frequently 
used  later  in  still-life  studies.  Whether  he  painted  mys- 
tical Buddhist  pictures,  rich  in  coloring,  or  landscapes 
in  black  and  white — he  has  been  called  the  father  of 
landscape-painting — his  line  had  a  power  and  a  rhythm 
that  proved  the  force  and  expressiveness  of  his  technique 
to  all  succeeding  generations.  He,  with  his  contem- 
porary Wang  Wei  (Omakitsu)  who  was  especially 
famous  for  his  black  and  white  style  in  landscape,  did 
most  to  make  landscape  painting  what  it  was  in  China. 
It  was  wild  nature,  fierce  and  majestic,  which  these 
ancients  sought — the  same  nature  which  we  in  the 
Western  world  never  understood  until  the  nineteenth 
century. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  development  of  landscape 
painting  led  to  flower  painting,  and  painting  of  birds  and 
animals.  This  natural  sequence  is  exactly  parallel  to 
what  happened  in  the  seventeenth  century  in  the  West. 

[159] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

The  Dutch,  the  first  pure  landscapists,  were  also  the 
first  still-Ufe  painters. 

Okakura  in  his  "Book  of  Tea"  has  written  very  beau- 
tifully of  the  Chinese  love  of  flowers.  And  Laurence 
Binyon  also  writes  with  sympathetic  appreciation  of  the 
charm  of  Chinese  flower  painting.  "The  Chinese  artist 
brings  us  to  the  flower,"  he  writes,  "that  we  may  con- 
template it  and  take  from  it  into  our  souls  something  of 
the  beauty  of  life  which  neither  sows  nor  spins."  As 
early  as  the  tenth  century  in  the  Sung  Dynasty,  the 
Chinese  possessed  that  poetic  devotion  for  flowers,  philo- 
sophic in  many  ways,  which  we  in  the  West  did  not  claim 
till  the  time  of  Wordsworth,  Shelley,  Blake  and  Lowell. 

The  so-called  father  of  bird-  and  flower-painting  in 
China  was  Ch'u  Hui  or  Hsii  Hsi  ( Joki) ,  a  man  who  in- 
spired much  of  Japanese  flower  painting.  He  lived  dur- 
ing the  transition  between  the  Tang  and  Sung  dynasties, 
i.  e.,  in  the  tenth  century.  Besides  his  pictures  of  little 
birds  perched  on  slender  twigs,  in  full  color,  and  of  herons, 
he  was  famous  for  his  lotus  flowers  which  were  the  mod- 
els for  artists  in  later  times.  He  painted  upon  coarse 
silk  so  that  his  line  was  softened,  and  thus  his  flowers, 
when  deUcately  tinted,  had  an  elusive  character  so  much 
admired  by  both  the  Chinese  and  Japanese. 

Huang  Ch'uan  (Kosen)  was  a  contemporary  of  Ch'u 
Hui,  of  whose  work  there  is  an  example  or  probably  a 
copy,  in  the  Freer  Collection — a  peony,  remarkable  for 
its  many  subtle  tones  of  purple  and  pink.  Li  Ti  and 
Lou  Kuan  were  two  other  painters  of  this  time  who 
have  left  us  exquisite  designs  of  rose  mallows. 

By  the  eleventh  century,  flower  painting  was  very 

[160] 


CHINESE  AND  JAPANESE  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

general,  so  that  when  Kuo  Hsi  (Kakki) ,  whom  we  have 
quoted,  wrote  his  essay  on  painting  he  mentions  flower 
painting.  "He  that  wishes  to  study  flower  painting," 
he  said,  "should  put  one  blossoming  plant  in  an  earthen 
pot,  and  look  upon  it  from  above.  He  that  studies 
bamboo  painting  should  take  one  bamboo  branch,  and 
cast  its  shadow  on  a  moonlight  night  upon  a  white  wall." 

We  have  a  painting  of  black  bamboo,  by  Bunyoka, 
who  lived  about  the  year  1100,  which  seems  as  if  it  had 
been  painted  from  Kuo  Hsi's  prescription.^  It  is  a  land- 
scape, but  the  landscape  is  lost  in  mfst ;  across  this  back- 
ground passes  the  shadow,  or  so  it  seems,  of  two  tall, 
graceful  bamboo  branches,  in  simple  washes,  each  leaf 
indicated  by  one  brush  stroke,  so  well  composed  and 
spaced  that  the  effect  is  wonderfully  decorative.  These 
bamboo  studies  have  been  repeated  in  every  age  of  Chi- 
nese art  up  to  the  present  time.  It  is  stated  that  Chinese 
artists  spent  their  whole  lives  studying  conscientiously 
the  rhythmic  movement  of  the  bamboo  stalks,  as  these 
swaying,  delicate  branches  seemingly  expressed  the 
elusiveness  of  the  human  soul.  In  the  eighteenth-  and 
nineteenth-century  Japanese  prints  bamboo  designs 
were  frequently  employed,  the  artist  still  inspired  by  the 
classic  decorations  of  Kuo  Hsi  and  Bunyoka. 

When  Ch'ien  Shun-Chii  (Shunkio)  in  the  thirteenth 
century,  painted  his  "Crumpled  Camellias,"^  he,  too, 
seems  to  follow  Kuo  Hsi's  advice.  They  are  painted 
from  above,  one  single  plant,  with  one  full  opened  flower, 
and  two  half  opened,  and  by  means  of  eliminating  all 


1  Reproduced  in  Fenellosa,  II,  p.  26. 
2Rep reduced  in  Fenellosa,  II,  p.  54. 


[16J] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

superfluous  background  details,  he  arrives  at  the  essen- 
tial character  of  the  flower,  its  wax-like  lustre,  its  decora- 
tive form,  the  way  it  joins  the  stem.  He  cares  for  noth- 
ing else.  This  is  true  also  of  the  art  of  Wang  Jo-Sui, 
another  great  flower  painter  of  the  thirteenth  century. 
The  central  idea  is  insisted  upon.  I  believe  that  the 
decorative  quality  of  so  much  of  Chinese  and  later  Jap- 
anese art  is  due  chiefly  to  this  insistence  upon  one  point 
in  a  picture,  and  the  daring  elimination  of  all  else.  The 
Chinese  and  Japanese  deliberately  refrained  from  say- 
ing all  that  they  had  to  say.  The  background  being  left 
neutral  and  the  accessories  subdued,  the  effect  is  natural- 
ly formal  and  flat,  and,  as  we  know  the  Chinese  care- 
fully studied  boundaries  of  space,  the  result  is  decorative. 

The  value  of  still-life  painting  was  so  well  appre- 
ciated in  the  Sung  and  Yuen  dynasties,  which,  with  the 
Tang,  formed  the  creative  age  of  Chinese  art,  that  when 
the  Emperor  Hui  Tsung  in  the  twelfth  century  cata- 
logued the  classes  of  paintings  in  China,  out  of  ten  kinds, 
four  are  of  decorative  still-life  character,  namely,  "Drag- 
ons and  Fish,"  "Birds  and  Flowers,"  "Ink  Bamboos" 
and  "Vegetables  and  Fruit." 

What  we  learn  from  Chinese  flower  painting,  and 
Chinese  still-life  in  general,  is  first,  the  value  of  pure 
line;  second,  the  decorative  importance  of  free  spaces; 
third,  the  possibility  of  being  minute  in  details  without 
slavish  imitation.  The  Chinese  artists,  following  Ch'u 
Hui  (Hsu  Hsi-Joki)  were  delicately  minute,  and  faith- 
ful to  the  object  they  portrayed,  but  never  did  they  in- 
sist on  a  mere  reproduction  of  what  they  saw.  They 
attended  to  the  drawing  of  each  petal  and  stamen  only 

[162] 


CHINESE  AND  JAPANESE  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

SO  far  as  their  lines  expressed  the  character  of  the  flower. 
What  details  there  were,  were  happily  contrasted  against 
open  spaces,  their  compositions  were  creations,  not  imi- 
tations, in  that  they  were  studiously  built  up  to  make 
their  decorative  effect.  There  was  nothing  reaUstic 
whatever  about  this  art,  hence  Chinese  still-life  painting 
is  the  very  antithesis  of  European,  i.  e.,  Dutch  and 
French. 

As  we  shall  see,  these  principles  were  followed  by 
Japanese  artists  and,  through  Japanese  art,  had  a  de- 
cided effect  upon  nineteenth  century  painting  in  the 
West. 

II 

Japanese  Still-life 

While  the  greatest  epoch  for  still-life  painting  in 
Japan  was  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,  and 
our  chief  interest  lies  here,  it  is  necessary  to  cast  a  retro- 
spective glance  upon  what  was  going  on  in  the  art  world 
of  Japan  before  this  time. 

Early  Japanese  art  is  Buddhistic,  that  is,  essentially 
religious,  hieratic  and  mystic.  In  the  fifth  century,  con- 
quered Korea — a  highly  civilized  state,  permeated  with 
Chinese  culture — turned  upon  her  conquerors  and  peace- 
fully enslaved  her  barbaric  Japanese  overlords  by  intro- 
ducing Chinese  art  and  the  Buddhist  religion  into  Japan. 
From  these  two  sources  sprang  two  streams  of  influence. 
Buddhism  imparted  a  national  artistic  tradition  to 
Japan;  Indian,  and  behind  them  Hellenistic  Greek 
forms  were  introduced,  with  a  love  for  richness  of  effect 
and  the  use  of  color  with  gold.    At  the  same  time  there 

[  163  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

flourished  alongside  of  the  Buddhistic,  the  Chinese  tradi- 
tion of  line  painting  which  was  secular  rather  than  re- 
ligious, freer,  allowing  greater  play  for  individual  ex- 
pression. Under  different  names,  such  as  Tosa  and 
Kano,  these  two  great  movements  in  art  continued  to 
flourish  in  Japan  up  to  modem  times.  It  is  needless  to 
say  that  the  Chinese  line  tradition  was  that  which  even- 
tually gave  rise  to  most  of  the  still-life  painting  in 
Japan,  although  the  national  hieratic  school  also  pro- 
duced much  decorative  flower  painting. 

It  would  seem  natural  that  there  should  have  been  a 
continuous  minghng  of  the  artistic  culture  of  both  the 
great  oriental  empires,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  at  times 
Japan  definitely  cut  herself  off  from  Chinese  influence, 
and  for  centuries,  up  until  1368,  there  was  a  complete 
breach  between  the  two  countries,  during  which  period 
feudal  Japan  developed  a  national  art — elaborate,  rich 
and  ornamental.  But  with  the  advent  of  the  Ming 
Dynasty  in  China,  and  the  reign  of  the  liberal  Shogun 
Ashikaga  Yoshimitsu — the  Lorenzo  de  Medici  of  Japan 
— a  new  era  commenced,  when  Chinese,  especially  Chi- 
nese Sung  culture  was  warmly  welcomed.  Then  the 
ancient  hieratic  tradition  died  out  as  a  creative,  national 
school,  to  be  revived  later  in  the  seventeenth  century 
with  the  decorative  screen  painters.  The  history  of  Jap- 
anese art  shows  us  a  series  of  recurrent  renaissances,  al- 
ways due  to  Chinese  influence,  alternating  with  periods 
of  strict  isolation  when  Japanese  nationahsm  asserted 
itself. 

Josetsu,  the  founder  of  the  fourteenth  century  Renais- 
sance, was  possibly  Chinese  himself;  his  pupil  Shubun 

[  164] 


CHINESE  AND  JAPANESE  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

was  a  Chinaman;  they  were  both  trained  in  China  as 
were  also  their  two  famous  followers  Sesshu  and  Kano 
Masanobu.  All  of  these  men  painted  in  Indian  ink, 
lightly  tinting  their  silk  backgromids,  in  the  classic  Chi- 
nese manner.  It  might  be  said  that  they  transported 
Chinese  art  to  Japan,  for  after  this  time,  Chinese  art  as 
a  creative  force  died  out,  while  the  greatest  period  began 
for  Japan.  In  the  fourteenth  century  countless  works 
of  Chinese  art  were  imported  to  Japan — ^happily,  as 
subsequently  they  might  have  been  destroyed  in  China. 

Sesshu  was  perhaps  the  most  forceful,  the  most  orig- 
inal master  of  these  Chinese-trained  artists.  When  he 
returned  from  China,  he  brought  with  him  the  style  of 
the  old  Tang  and  Sung  masters,  force  and  expressive- 
ness of  line,  richness  of  tone,  subtlety  in  monochrome, 
while  to  these  he  added  a  quahty,  distinctly  Japanese  and 
at  the  same  time  his,  spirit.  He  was  more  versatile  in 
line  than  was  possibly  any  Chinese  painter  for  he  could 
wield  his  brush  with  soft,  gentle,  modulating  strokes — 
in  the  true  painter's  style,  or  with  crisp,  strong,  sketchy 
lines  like  an  etcher's.  There  is  a  painting  on  paper  by 
Sesshu  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts  of  a  pine 
branch  with  cherry  blossoms  and  a  pigeon.  The  pine 
needles  are  drawn  with  bold,  decorative  strokes,  while 
in  contrast  the  pigeon  is  delicately  modelled. 

Sesshu  was  the  master  of  Kano  Masanobu,  the 
first  of  the  great  Kano  school.  Both  did  flowers,  but 
Utanosuke,  Masanobu' s  son,  was  preeminent  in  this 
branch  of  painting.  His  style  went  back  to  Hsu  Hsi 
( Joki)  the  "father"  of  flower  painting  in  the  tenth  cen- 
tury.   Unlike  many  of  the  Japanese  painters,  but  like 

[  165  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

Hsu  Hsi,  his  outlines  were  soft,  while  his  color  tones — 
often  mere  monochromes,  were  so  richly,  yet  so  deli- 
cately brushed  in  that  his  birds  and  flowers  seemed 
shaded — even  modelled — as  solidly  as  any  European 
painting. 

Besides  the  painting  of  birds  and  flowers,  true  still- 
life  painting  flourished  in  the  Ashikaga  period.  Fruits 
and  vegetables  were  frequently  painted.  In  the  Boston 
Museum  there  are  two  paintings  on  paper,  in  ink,  faintly 
tinted  with  color,  by  the  sixteenth  century  painter 
Yamada  Doan.  One  shows  simply  two  melons,  grouped 
together;  the  other,  three  egg  plants  (Figs.  68  and  69). 

About  the  year  1600  began  the  Tokugawa  period  in 
Japanese  art,  which  lasted  down  to  1868,  during  which 
time  Japan  was  again  shut  off  from  foreign  influence, 
and  developed  her  Chinese  heritage  along  national 
Japanese  lines.  In  the  seventeenth  century  there  was 
a  great  revival  of  the  national  color  style.  Koyetsu 
was  the  leader  of  this  movement.  He  founded  a  great 
decorative  school  which  loved  splendor,  golden  back- 
grounds, bold  color  schemes,  and  impressionistic  effects. 
There  is  little  of  the  Chinese  line-tradition  in  this  school ; 
on  the  other  hand  it  was  a  retimi  to  the  old  national 
ideas  concerning  art,  rich  and  magnificent  like  the  Bud- 
dhistic paintings.  It  was  also  an  essentially  national 
school  in  that  Japanese  plant  forms  were  used  in  decora- 
tion, and  it  was  par  excellence  the  era  for  gorgeous 
flower  compositions. 

There  is  a  screen  in  the  Freer  collection  by  Koyetsu, 
with  a  background  of  silver  leaf,  against  which  fall  in 
true  vine-like  fashion,  great  sprays  of  ivy  leaves  in  dull 

[166] 


CHINESE  AND  JAPANESE  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

red  and  olive  and  silvery  green.  There  are  no  outlines; 
the  beauty  is  in  its  pattern  and  arrangement. 

Another  screen  in  the  Freer  Collection/  by  Koyetsu, 
is  of  silver,  upon  which  in  lively  colors  is  designed  what 
seems  almost  a  tangle  of  American  Indian  cornstalks, 
with  great  sweeping  leaves  and  tossing  tassels.  In  the 
midst  of  these  intertwine  the  stems  and  flowers  of  morn- 
ing glories,  and,  shooting  off  through  the  maze  is  a  large 
scarlet  coxcomb.  Even  such  a  brief  description  as  this 
conveys  the  richness  of  the  composition,  which  no 
painter,  save  a  Japanese,  could  have  arranged  in  a  deco- 
rative way,  giving  at  the  same  time  great  richness  of 
color  with  expressiveness  of  line.  There  is  an  impres- 
sionism about  this  work  which  seems  extremely  modem. 

A  companion  com  screen  in  the  Freer  Collection  is 
of  gold  instead  of  silver,  upon  which  again  are  the 
cornstalks,  morning  glories,  coxcombs,  a  marvel  of  con- 
trasting colors,  olive  greens,  reds,  pale  blues,  pinks  and 
yellows,  so  well  spotted  as  to  leave  a  clear  and  certain 
decorative  impression.  Sotatsu,  a  contemporary  of 
Koyetsu,  was  likewise  famous  for  his  color  design  (Fig. 
70) .  In  this  the  two  painters  more  closely  approach  the 
European  conception  of  what  painting  should  be,  than 
do  the  followers  of  the  line  tradition.  Sotatsu  is  con- 
sidered by  Japanese  art  critics  as  the  greatest  flower 
painter  after  Utanosuke. 

There  are  two  screens  of  his  in  Boston,  in  gold,  with 
the  color  thickly  applied  in  impasto  over  the  background, 
without  line.  Other  screens  of  the  same  artist  are  to  be 
found  in  the  Freer  collection.    Sometimes  he  uses  dull 

3  Reproduced  in  Fenellosa,  II,  124. 

[167] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

gold  backgrounds,  and  color  transparently  washed  over 
it,  allowing  the  gold  to  show  through,  but,  unlike  Koy- 
etsu,  he  is  less  impressionistic,  being  infinitely  minute 
and  delicate — preferring  smaller  forms.  One  of  his 
screens  is  decorated  with  peonies  and  morning  glories, 
mingled  with  their  leaves  and  the  tall  blades  of  grasses. 
The  background  is  of  a  pale  rose  color,  the  leaves  of 
various  hues  of  brown.  The  decoration  is  massed  toward 
the  lower  right-hand  side  where  three  large  white  peony 
flowers  stand  out  Itmiinously  against  the  background 
of  brown  and  greenish  leaves,  while  above  are  three  other 
pink  flowers. 

Another  screen  of  Sotatsu's  represents  large  clumps 
of  asters,  with  grasses,  massed  according  to  their  color. 
The  flowers  are  painted  delicately  but  flatly  in  large 
decorative  groups,  with  smaller  clumps  of  poppies  in- 
terspersed.   The  effect  is  both  rich  and  elegant. 

Sotatsu's  drawings  do  much  to  help  us  understand 
the  process  of  his  art.  Minutely  complicated  leaves  and 
stems,  mazes  of  vines,  reeds  and  grasses  of  every  form, 
tall,  slender  iris  stalks,  large  elephant  ears,  delicate  wis- 
taria, he  will  contrast  one  against  the  other,  these  masses 
relieved  by  a  plain  background  so  that  the  whole  panel 
is  never  covered.  But  standing  out  from  the  midst  of 
these  intricate  mazes  will  be  always  some  large  flower. 
Thus  he  enriches  his  design  with  every  contrasting  shape 
and  form. 

Korin,  who  lived  from  1660  to  1716,  is  perhaps  the 
greatest  of  the  impasto  decorators.  He  is  not  unhke 
Koyetsu,  painting  upon  gold,  with  naturalistic  designs 
of  flowers,  plants  and  grasses.    In  the  Freer  collection  is 

[168] 


SOTATSU 
POPPIES,  WHEAT  AND  NATANE  FLOWERS 


CHINESE  AND  JAPANESE  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

a  screen  painted  by  him,  of  gold,  designed  with  sprays  of 
chrysanthemums,  naturally  rendered,  with  their  stems, 
leaves  and  flowers.  His  iris  screens  for  which  he  was 
especially  renowned  are  nimierous.  One  reproduced  in 
colors  by  Fenellosa,  shows  what  remarkable  decorative 
quality  can  result  from  absolute  naturalistic  treatment. 
The  design  consists  of  nothing  but  a  continuous  group- 
ing of  blue  irises  waving  their  tall  stems  among  their 
pointed  leaves. 

Korin,  like  Sotatsu,  loved  to  contrast  various  flower 
and  leaf  forms.  One  of  his  screens  representing 
"Flowers  of  the  Seasons,"  is  a  continuous  frieze  of  peach 
blossoms,  primroses,  columbine,  irises  and  other  early 
flowers — against  a  neutral  background,  but  growing 
naturally — the  decorative  quality  being  due  to  Korin's 
contrast  of  large  forms  against  small,  and  dark  color 
against  light. 

Korin's  sketches  of  flowers  were  frequently  copied  in 
woodcuts  in  the  next  century.  They  are  broadly  treated 
with  very  little  color  and  were  admirable  in  serving  to 
stamp  upon  the  art  of  wood  engraving  that  simplicity 
for  which  it  became  noted. 

Up  to  the  sixteenth  century  Japanese  art  of  whatever 
school  had,  like  the  Chinese,  been  aristocratic.  Painting 
had  been  considered  the  privilege  of  noble  birth — "a 
gentle  art" — and  pictures  or  decorations  were  made 
chiefly  for  the  palaces  of  royal  and  wealthy  patrons,  or 
for  the  temples.  But  at  this  time  there  arose  a  more 
popular  and  genre  school,  founded  by  Matahei,  living 
1578-1650.  It  was  this  school  which  found  its  chief  ex- 
pression eventually  in  wood-engraving,  and  therefore 

[169] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

was  based  upon  the  old  Chinese  line  tradition  rather 
than  upon  the  Japanese  color  design.  Tanyu  was  a 
painter  who  was  studying  life  about  him.  He  made 
thousands  of  studies  of  fish,  birds,  reptiles,  insects  and 
flowers.  But  Monorobu,  1647-1695,  did  most  to  estab- 
lish the  school.  He  painted  scenes  from  the  life  of  the 
people,  their  pleasures,  dancing  girls,  flirtation  scenes, 
the  stage,  etc.,  mostly  in  Yeddo  (Tokio),  hence  the 
name  Ukijo-je,  "painting  of  the  floating  world."  Be- 
cause these  pictures  were  made  for  the  populace  and 
must  necessarily  conmiand  but  a  small  price,  the  incen- 
tive arose  to  reproduce  them  in  prints. 

Harunobu  (1718-1770)  was  the  founder  of  Japanese 
wood  printing  in  the  style  familiar  to  us  in  the  West. 
With  him  continued  the  essentially  naturalistic  move- 
ment in  Japanese  art  (Fig.  71).  Shigenaga,  his  master 
about  1740,  started  two-color  printing — previously 
prints  had  been  hand-colored  upon  a  plain  background 
— but  Harunobu  used  many  colors,  first  giving  his  back- 
grounds soft  grey  or  green  coloring,  and  then,  by  in- 
creasing the  numbers  of  his  blocks,  multiplied  his  colors 
until  finally  fifteen  were  applied  by  as  many  blocks. 
The  year  1763  marks  the  date  of  his  first  real  polychrome 
print. 

It  was  Harunobu  who  popularized  the  surimono — the 
New  Year  or  Announcement  card — a  square,  small-sized 
picture  which  was  later  used  principally  for  still-life. 

In  the  Peytel  Collection,  Paris,  there  is  a  veritable 
still-life  print  by  Harunobu  which  illustrates  perfectly 
the  influence  of  the  ancient  Chinese  tradition,  through 
Sesshu  and  Josetsu.    It  is  a  vase  of  flowers.    The  back- 

[  170  ] 


HARUNOBU 
VASE  OF  FLOWERS  AND  RISING  MOON 

COLLECTION    OF    J.    PEYTEL,    PARIS 


CHINESE  AND  JAPANESE  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

ground  is  softly  tinted  grey,  with  clouds,  above  which 
rises  a  full  moon,  pale  and  silvery.  The  vase  of  flowers, 
a  large,  crater-shaped  urn,  with  three  small  grotesque- 
headed  feet,  takes  up  the  lower  half  of  the  composition. 
As  if  growing  in  sand,  a  group  of  small  flowers,  with 
their  stems  and  leaves,  peer  out  over  the  edge — all  deli- 
cately designed  in  pale  colors.  The  whole  is  an  arrange- 
ment in  greys,  ochres  and  pale  pinks,  but  the  clearness 
of  the  colors  gives  it  a  luminosity  for  which  Harunobu 
was  famous. 

But  perhaps  it  was  Hokusai  (1760-1849)  who  did 
most  to  promote  still-life  painting.  He  it  was  who  used 
the  surimono  form  so  extensively  that  it  became  popular 
with  his  many  pupils  and  followers.  As  a  painter  who 
endeavored  to  picture  the  entire  cycle  of  human  inter- 
ests, he  gave  his  attention  to  genre  subjects  of  trivial 
character,  historical  and  legendary  tales,  landscape, 
animal  life,  flowers  and  pure  still-life  of  inanimate  ob- 
jects. Between  1830  and  his  death,  he  produced  a  set  of 
ten  large  flower  pictures,  a  set  of  ten  smaller  ones,  and 
a  large  study  of  chickens.  His  large  "Lobster  and  Pine 
Branch"  in  the  Vever  Collection,  Paris,*  which  may  be 
considered  a  true  still-life  picture,  is  a  fine  example  of 
decoration.  The  title  itself  indicates  the  interesting 
color  contrasts  in  green.  The  lobster,  boldly  designed, 
twisting  about  on  his  tail,  his  great  antennae  stretching 
clear  across  the  panel,  forms  a  striking  contrast  to  the 
delicate  needles  of  the  pine  branch. 

In  his  decorative  flower  panels  Hokusai  adhered  to 

*  Reproduced  in  von  Seidlitz,  p.  172. 

[171] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

the  principles  of  the  great  older  masters  of  design, 
sweeping  his  forms  across  the  panels. 

Unlike  Korin  and  Sotatsu,  he  preferred  large 
flowers,  and  seems  to  have  been  inspired  rather  by  Chien 
Chmi  Chii  (Shunkio)  and  Joki,  taking  parts  of  a  large 
plant  or  vine,  as  though  his  picture  represented  a  seg- 
ment. But  he  had  none  of  the  subtlety  and  delicacy  of 
these  masters.  His  compositions  are  seldom  filled,  never 
crowded,  as  he  depended  upon  large  bare  spaces  to  in- 
crease the  decorative  effect.  Some  of  his  compositions  of 
flowers  in  the  British  Museum  are  especially  rich,  where 
he  has  placed  great  open  red  and  pink  flowers,  dangling 
on  their  tall  stems  amidst  their  luxurious  leaves,  against 
a  plain  background  of  rich  blue.  There  is  little  shading 
to  his  leaves  and  petals,  as  it  is  not  depth  of  tone  nor 
volume  that  is  demanded  of  a  print,  but  simple  washes 
of  color  and  bold  contrasts.  Hokusai  was  one  of  those 
Japanese  artists  who  loved  to  play  with  their  art.  Von 
SeidUtz  very  justly  remarks  that  the  fimdamental  idea 
in  any  rhythmic  art,  like  the  Japanese,  is  that  of  play. 
Hokusai  never  tired  of  experiments,  of  caprices;  the 
trivial  or  the  serious  was  always  treated  with  the  same 
spontaneous  freedom,  and  his  still-life  pieces  were  the 
result  of  the  playful  impulse  that  so  often  animated  him. 

Two  of  Hokusai's  pupils  paid  special  attention  to  still- 
lives  in  surimono  form.  I  have  before  me  a  nimciber  of 
little  greeting  cards  by  Gakutei,  Hokkei,  Shinsai,  and 
others. 

Many  of  these  are  very  charming  trivialities.  Hokkei 
is  the  most  talented  of  the  group.  One  of  his  surimonos 
represents  a  black  lacquered  chest  with  gold  and  silver 

[172] 


HOKKEI,  SURIMONO  OR  GREETING  CARD 


CHINESE  AND  JAPANESE  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

ornaments,  and  open  drawers  out  of  which  streams  a 
quantity  of  clothing  (Fig.  72).  It  is  a  composition  in 
subtle  brown,  reds,  blacks,  gold  and  silver.  Another 
Hokkei  likewise  shows  a  black  chest,  over  which  is 
thrown  an  actor's  wardrobe  of  strange  garments.  Shin- 
sai  was  a  very  prolific  artist  in  surimono.  One  of  these 
before  me  represents  a  screen,  lacquered  brown  and 
black,  a  bow  and  quiver  of  arrows — old  Japanese  weap- 
ons— and  a  vase  of  twigs.  Another  Shinsai  represents  a 
zylophone  table,  a  black  lacquered  box,  with  actor's 
equipment.  Still  another  shows  us  a  lacquered  table 
with  a  piece  of  bric-a-brac  upon  it,  while  on  the  floor  is 
a  box  of  clothing. 

As  with  all  still-life  painting,  whether  western  or 
oriental,  the  apparent  triviality  of  the  objects  portrayed 
has  httle  to  do  with  the  aesthetic  character  of  the  pic- 
ture. In  the  case  of  the  surimonos,  as  with  the  flower 
arrangements  of  Harunobu,  the  decorative  treatment, 
the  design,  is  the  principal  thing.  As  we  have  seen,  with 
the  exception  of  Koyetsu,  Korin  and  the  colorist  school 
of  Japan,  all  Chinese  and  Japanese  still-life  was  con- 
cerned most  with  line.  When  the  western  world  late  in 
the  nineteenth  century  was  confronted  for  the  first  time 
with  this  historic  art,  they  witnessed  the  negation  of  all 
that  the  old  masters  of  Europe  had  made  traditional. 


[173] 


CHAPTER  7 
Modern  Dutch  Still-Life  Painting 


CHAPTER  7 

"Art  *was  our  national  glory,"  writes  the  Dutch  critic 
Max  Havelaer,  "it  is  Thow  our  national  sin." 

It  is  difficult  for  a  people  with  a  great  past  to  ap- 
preciate their  own  present,  and  the  Dutch  look  back 
upon  a  Golden  Age  whose  splendour  has  forever  van- 
ished. That  Golden  Age  was,  of  course,  the  seventeenth 
century.  But  Hollanders  look  back  almost  as  proudly, 
and  perhaps  more  fondly,  because  the  memory  is  more 
fresh,  upon  the  Renaissance  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

In  Israels  they  delight  to  see  a  reflection  of  Rem- 
brandt, imperfect  to  be  sure,  but  still  resembling  him. 
Not  since  the  seventeenth  century  has  any  man,  save 
Millet,  painted  age  and  human  suffering  with  the  sym- 
pathy of  Israels.  In  the  great  Bosboon  they  find  the 
old  painters  of  church  interiors  reborn,  Pieter  Neefs, 
Jacob  van  Vliet  and  Emmanuel  de  Witte;  only  Bos- 
boom  seems  to  fill  the  ancient  churches  with  far  more  of 
their  true  religious  spirit  than  any  of  his  predecessors 
have  done.  In  Christoffel  Bisschop,  painter  of  Frisian 
life,  in  Kever,  Artz,  Neuhuys  and  Blommers,  all  painters 
of  peasant  types  and  of  cottage  interiors,  the  Little  Mas- 

[177] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

ters — littler  still  perhaps — appear  again  in  modem 
guise.  In  still-life  painting,  too,  the  old  Dutch  masters 
were  revived  in  Maria  Vos,  Adriana  Haanen,  van  de 
Sande  Bakhuysen  and  AUebe.  But  best  of  all  are  the 
landscape  painters  of  the  nineteenth  century,  for  the 
Maris  brothers,  Jongkind,  Mauve,  Poggenbeek,  Weis- 
senbruch,  Theophile  de  Bock,  Gabriel  and  Roelofs 
surpass  anything  that  was  done  in  landscape  in  the 
Golden  Era.  One  single  painter  of  the  seventeenth 
century  alone  hold  his  own  in  modem  landscape.  When 
one  stands  before  Veraieer's  "View  of  Delft"  in  the 
Mauritzhuis,  The  Hague,  one  realizes  that  Veraieer  is 
not  an  Old  Master,  but  a  modem  one. 

The  Hague  group  of  painters  formed  a  truly  great 
school.  They  represented  a  Period  in  Dutch  art. 
Founded  on  national  traditions — although  influenced 
by  the  Barbizon — they  took  their  inspiration  from  Dutch 
life  and  Dutch  scenery.  They  were  thoroughly  Dutch 
themselves.  The  Hague  painters  found  or  could  find 
their  fellow  countrymen  in  the  same  environment, 
pretty  much,  that  surrounded  them  when  the  seventeenth 
century  masters  flourished.  The  same  skies  hovered 
overhead,  the  same  thatched  or  tile-roofed  cottages  and 
windmills  dotted  the  landscape.  The  same  rugged  folk 
married,  bore  large  families  of  children,  lived  their  lives 
of  hardship  mixed  with  pleasure,  as  in  the  age  two  hun- 
dred years  before. 

Today,  as  we  look  on  the  works  of  these  painters — 
most  especially  those  of  Jacob  Maris,  Mauve  and  Bos- 
boom — we  find  an  old-master  quality  in  them.  And  yet 
they  are,  or  were  in  their  day,  modem.    They  are  more 

[178] 


MODERN  DUTCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

personal,  more  impressionistic,  more  colorful;  that  is 
why  they  are  modern.  And  they  have  that  quality  called 
style,  by  which  we  can  always  tell  a  Bosboom  or  a  Maris 
or  a  Mauve;  that  is  why  they  are  masterpieces. 

Naturally,  now  that  these  men  are  all  dead,  we  have 
taken  it  for  granted  that  art  in  Holland  has  died  with 
them.  The  Dutch  themselves,  many  of  ihejoot,  have 
taken  the  same  attitude,  for  that  is  the  way  with  every 
generation — to  think  that  art  is  dead. 

But  where  is  the  artist  who  will  believe  it?  Fortun- 
ately there  is  another  side  of  the  story. 

That  still-hfe  painting  is  highly  appreciated  today 
in  Holland  is  revealed  by  the  Dutch  art  critic  Albert 
Plasschaert  who  writes  very  feelingly  on  the  subject.* 
He  says  that  the  art  of  Holland  is  essentially  that  of 
still-life — an  art  of  quiet  and  sober  things.  One  of  his 
passages  about  still-life  is  worth  quoting: 

"You  must  know  how  quiet  things  can  stand  in  their 
kingdom  of  a  room,  if  you  wish  to  enjoy  still-hfe.  .  .  . 
Still-life  is  the  vase  of  roses  in  a  room  on  which  shines 
the  late  golden  Hght  of  evening.  Still-Ufe  is  the  hght — 
the  restful  light  seen  through  an  open  doorway,  in  a 
far-off  room,  like  an  illusion.  Still-life  is  the  speech  of 
lifeless  things,  the  admission  that  things  can  speak. 
Still-life  is  the  glass  of  water — ^the  fleeting  ghmmer  of 
the  water,  like  burnished  metal.  Still-hfe  is  the  bouquet 
of  field-flowers,  or  the  death's  head  with  a  wine-red 
cloth,  or  the  ceramic  tile  on  which  Love  flees,  or  the  wax- 
hke  shine  of  anemones,  many  anemones.  Still-life  is  all 
these,  and,  too,  it  is  the  gentle  confession  of  the  heart." 

i"Het  Zien  van  Schilderijen,"  Arnhem,  1919. 

[179] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

And  again  he  writes,  "Seek  in  a  still-life  stillness  and 
meditation.  You  may  find  there  action,  drama  and 
passion,  but  the  best  still-life  is  that  wherein  inward 
calm  is  attained  in  quietness." 

Such  passages  show  an  unusual  mystical  interpreta- 
tion of  still-life  painting.  But  what  he  says  is  true,  for 
in  the  pictures  of  the  greatest  masters  of  still-life,  like 
those  of  Kalff,  Chardin  and  Latour,  or  of  Vollon, 
Dearth  and  Carlsen,  there  is  a  serenity  and  calm  which 
induces  mystical  contemplation.  One  can  be  extremely 
hopeful  for  modem  Dutch  art  when  still-life  painting 
is  so  well  appreciated  and  understood. 

It  would  be  rash  to  say  that  a  great  period — a  new 
epoch — is  beginning  in  Holland,  but  it  is  clear  to  any- 
one visiting  the  exhibitions  of  contemporary  art,  where 
the  works  of  various  living  painters  are  hung  together, 
that  a  decided  and  interesting  development  is  taking 
place.  In  spite  of  the  great  differences  between  the 
painters,  perhaps  more  violent  than  between  any  paint- 
ers of  the  same  land  in  previous  times,  there  is  a  note 
in  conmion.  There  is  something  in  the  exhibitions,  as 
entities,  which  proclaims  them  to  be  of  the  twentieth 
century  and  Dutch.  For  the  best — ^which  are  not  eccen- 
tric— ^we  detect  that  the  Dutch  attitude  toward  life  is 
after  all  pictured  here ;  and  because  we  see  Dutch  types 
and  Dutch  homes  and  Dutch  furnishings,  we  find  some- 
thing in  common  with  the  Dutch  art  of  the  past. 
And  yet  the  great  difference — at  first  overwhelm- 
ing, and  obliterating  all  similarities  to  anything 
past — ^is  the  new  vision,  a  vision  above  all  of  color, 
iatense,    vibrating    color,    at    the    expense    of    sub- 

[180] 


MODERN  DUTCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

tleties  of  tone.  Tonalism? — it  is  a  thing  of  the  past — or 
so  it  appears  at  first.  And  then  one  becomes  aware  of 
new  purposes — the  decorative  and  the  symbolic.  This 
new  art  is  not  so  much  of  the  heart  as  of  the  eye.  One's 
heart  is  not  touched,  as  with  poetic  sadness  at  the  pic- 
tures of  Israels  or  Artz,  but  one's  eyes  are  delighted. 
This  is  not  a  poetic,  a  literary,  a  philosophic  nor  a  moral- 
istic art,  but  a  sensuous  art,  at  times  mystical,  emotional, 
but  in  a  different  way  from  anything  before.  There  is 
color,  design  and  pattern.  The  appeal  is  to  the  out- 
ward eye.  And  yet  the  inward  eye  also  responds,  for 
"Beauty  is  its  own  excuse  for  being"  and  has  its  own 
mysterious  need  in  om*  spiritual  life. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  of  the  great  schools  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  the  still-life  tradition  in  Holland 
alone  remained  unbroken  through  the  centuries.  Still- 
life  painting  was  not  affected  by  the  French  regime.  It 
lingered  longest,  and  was  kept  alive  by  Art  Schouman 
(1710-1792),  Jan  van  Os  (1744-1808),  Maria  van  Os 
(1780-1862) ,  and  Adriana  Haanen  (1814-1895) . 

In  the  realm  of  still-life  painting  today  the  Dutch  are 
true  to  their  national  tradition.  Faithful,  we  should  say, 
as  far  as  subject  matter  is  concerned,  to  an  interest  in 
objects  because  of  what  they  can  express.  And  the 
Dutch  are  also  true  to  their  creative  sense,  in  making 
new  discoveries,  in  finding  new  possibilities  in  the  visible 
world.  In  still-life  painting  some  of  the  most  original 
work  that  is  being  done  in  any  part  of  the  world  is  being 
done  in  Holland. 

I  shall  commence  by  going  back  to  the  older  painters. 
Of  Maria  Vos  (1824-1906),  I  have  already  written  in 

[181] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

the  chapter  on  the  seventeenth  century  schools.  Al- 
though of  the  mneteenth  century,  she  was  a  re-incarna- 
tion of  the  old  masters,  and  second  to  none.  She  could 
do  everything,  almost,  that  the  old  still-life  masters  could 
do,  rich  decorative  objects  in  the  style  of  Kalff,  dead 
game  and  poultry  in  the  style  of  Fyt  or  Weenicx,  or 
fruit  and  flowers  in  the  style  of  Van  Aelst  (Fig.  73) . 

Another  good  still-life  painter  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury is  Allebe,  a  veteran  painter,  still  Uving.  His  pic- 
tures are  small  but  very  refined.  Generally  a  basket  of 
strawberries,  or  a  bunch  of  asparagus  is  all  he  attempts. 
With  him  we  have  not  reached  the  new  decorative  for- 
mula— we  are  still  in  the  intimate  period. 

Van  de  Sande  Bakhuysen  attempted  the  style  of  van 
Huysum,  in  his  still-life  pictures — the  large  collection  of 
fruit  on  a  stone  table  supposedly  out  of  doors.  His  work 
is  not  so  meticulous  as  van  Huysum's,  although  he  is  a 
bit  botanical.    He  could  hardly  be  called  modem. 

The  still-life  painters  of  the  older  generation  are  al- 
most too  numerous  to  mention.  Mevrouw  Bisschop 
Robertson  painted  breakfast  pieces  in  the  style  of  the 
old  Haarlem  school,  yet  more  modem  in  technical  treat- 
ment. Her  coloring  shows  the  influence  of  Courbet;  her 
pictures  are  therefore  reaUstic  but  not  colorful. 

Van  Beyeren  has  his  disciples  in  Holland  as  well  as  in 
France.  WilHam  Roelofs,  Jr.,  the  son  of  the  well- 
known  landscapist,  has  painted  fish,  slices  of  haddock 
with  brown  jugs  and  breakfast  dishes.  Yongkint  is  an- 
other disciple  of  van  Beyeren.  His  fishes  with  cauH- 
flower  or  other  vegetables  are  quite  in  the  spirit  of  the 
old  masters,  with  a  trifle  more  brightness  of  coloring. 

[182] 


MARIA  VOS,  STILL-LIFE 

BOYMAn's    museum,    ROTTERDAM 


MODERN  DUTCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

But  with  all  these  painters  I  have  not  yet  touched 
upon  any  who  show  that  modem  freshness  of  vision,  or 
fertility  of  invention  which  I  have  said  were  character- 
istic of  still-life  painting  in  Holland  today.  With  all 
our  admiration  for  national  traditions  in  art,  we  are 
eager  to  find  in  each  age  an  expression  that  is  new. 

Willem  Witsen  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished of  Dutch  painters.  Distinguished?  Yes,  in 
that  his  work  shows  a  power,  a  grasp,  an  understanding 
which  is  exhibited  only  by  a  great  individuality.  It  does 
not  reflect  the  art  of  any  other  man.  His  more  youthful 
work  does.  Some  of  his  early  street  scenes  and  build- 
ings show  that  he  began  where  Koekhoek,  Springer  and 
Klinkenberg  left  off,  being  very  careful  studies  of  sun- 
light and  shadow  with  rather  too  much  minute  architec- 
tural detail.  Then,  as  his  work  develops,  one  is  re- 
minded of  Bastert,  and  still  more  of  Vermeer.  But 
later  he  loses  that  imitative  objectivity,  and  his  buildings 
become  more  subjective — expressive. 

One  of  the  very  finest  still-lives  in  any  Dutch  gallery 
is  Witsen's  study  of  chrysanthemums  in  the  Stedelyk 
Museum  of  Amsterdam.  It  is  a  large  canvas,  with  noth- 
ing more  than  a  copper  cauldron  filled  with  an  enormous 
bunch  of  small  yellow  flowers.  These  are  impression- 
istically  rendered — broadly  handled  for  distant  effect, 
and  yet  each  flower  is  distinct  and  full  of  character. 
They  are  as  bright  a  yellow  as  can  be  imagined,  with 
a  full  light  sparkling  upon  them.  For  richness  of  color, 
boldness  of  design  and  simplicity  of  arrangement  the 
canvas  is  unsurpassed. 

[183] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

Another  flower  painter  is  Floris  Verster  of  Leiden. 
A  prolific  painter,  simple  in  his  arrangements,  and  treat- 
ing flowers  for  their  own  sake,  he  might  almost  be  called 
the  Fantin-Latour  of  Holland  today.  Yet  he  is  unlike 
this  French  painter  in  that  he  often  sacrifices  form  for 
color.  When  he  paints  peonies,  it  is  their  gorgeousness 
alone  he  cares  about;  when  he  paints  nasturtiums,  it  is 
their  brilliancy  and  not  their  form.  Herein  is  his  mo- 
dernity. Sometimes  he  seeks  purple  color  schemes  and 
when  he  does  this,  it  is  clear  he  has  been  influenced  by 
the  school  of  Monet.    He  is  above  all  a  luminist. 

In  originality  of  design,  ingenuity  of  subject  matter 
and  decorative  quaUties,  Lizzy  Ansingh  deserves  first 
place  among  all  modern  Dutch  still-life  painters.  Wher- 
ever her  work  appears,  it  has  the  greatest  distinction. 
Her  subject  matter  is  dolls — ^Japanese  dolls — French 
dolls — old-fashioned  Dutch  dolls — any  kind  she  finds. 
But  one  scarcely  realizes  they  are  dolls.  Take,  for  ex- 
ample, her  "Awakening"  in  the  Stedelyk  Museimi,  Am- 
sterdam. (Her  titles,  too,  deserve  attention,  suggesting, 
like  the  pictures  themselves,  something  beyond  the  ob- 
jective fact.)  It  is  like  a  picture  by  Arthur  Rackham  or 
Edmund  Dulac,  only  far  more  interpretative  of  an 
original  conception.  It  seems  to  be  suggestive  of  a  fairy 
tale,  yet  not  illustrative.  One  should  say  it  is  not  imita- 
tive of  an  oriental  style,  but  Asiatic  in  spirit,  at  any  rate, 
exotic.  Then  one  looks  intently  and  sees  in  the  amazing 
design  Japanese  dolls,  peacock  feathers  and  gorgeously 
plumaged  birds.  The  color  scheme  is  blue  and  green.  It 
might  be  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  so  like  another  world  it 
appears. 

[184] 


j|M|k||^ 

ft      ^^^Bi 

'^■■krt            '' 

LIZZY  ANSINGH,  DE  VERSTOOTENE 
(THE    CAST-OFF    TOYS) 


MODERN  DUTCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

Sometimes  her  work  reminds  one  of  the  later  pictures 
by  Henry  Golden  Dearth.  One  of  her  studies,  entitled 
"De  Verstootene"  ("The  Cast-Off  Toys")  (Fig.  74), 
with  Japanese  dolls,  is  treated  in  the  style  of  ancient 
Japanese  battle  scenes.  The  little  figures,  clad  in  red 
and  black,  seem  to  be  swinging  their  arms  like  warriors. 

Two  other  women  painters  of  still-life  are  highly  ap- 
preciated in  Holland  today — Suze  Robertson  and  Coba 
Ritsema.  Suze  Robertson  is  not  so  distinctly  original 
in  her  subject  matter  as  Lizzy  Ansingh.  She  is  content 
with  the  bottles  and  jars,  the  plates,  vegetables  and 
fruits  familiar  to  us  in  the  older  masters.  She  is  dis- 
tinctly modem,  however,  in  her  broad  handling.  There 
is  great  strength  in  her  design,  and  what  distinguishes 
her  most  perhaps  in  the  seriousness  of  her  work.  Her 
coloring  adds  to  this,  for  while  it  is  bold  and  often  vig- 
orous, it  is  sombre,  hke  tragic  music. 

Coba  Ritsema,  like  Suze  Robertson,  is  a  forceful 
painter  who  handles  her  pigment  broadly,  aiming  for 
plastic  effect.  Sometimes  her  arrangements  are  quite 
striking, — on  account  of  their  simplicity.  She  has 
a  very  personal  way  of  interpreting  objects,  but  per- 
haps she  is  most  talented  as  a  colorist. 

A  painter  who  shows  the  same  fertihty  of  invention 
as  Lizzy  Ansingh  is  Dysselhoff.  He  paints  scenes  in 
the  great  aquaria  of  Amsterdam.  As  if  viewed  from 
within  the  depths  of  the  sea,  his  fishes  seem  to  swim  in 
actual  water.    On  the  bottom  are  bizarre  aquatic  plants, 

[185] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

sea  anemones  with  their  wide-open  mouths,  monsters 
with  streaming  tentacles  and  every  kind  of  weird  finned 
being,  both  beautiful  and  ugly.  Sometimes  he  confines 
his  sea  animals  to  lobsters — live  green  lobsters,  an  un- 
familiar sort  to  art. 

Van  Hoytema  is  perhaps  the  strongest  painter  of  pure 
decorative  design.  One  sees  at  once  in  his  work  that  he 
has  been  inspired  by  the  famous  seventeenth  century 
decorators  Hondekoeter  and  Weenicx,  while  he  is  at 
the  same  time  mostly  influenced  by  the  Chinese  and 
Japanese.  These  two  influences  are  not  conflicting.  His 
landscapes  have  all  the  suggestive  quahties  of  the  Jap- 
anese, being  carefully  designed;  'his  compositions  of 
birds  are  splendid  in  arrangement  and  delicate  in  detail. 

The  ingenuity  of  some  of  these  modem  Dutch  decora- 
tive painters  strikes  one  particularly  in  viewing  the  work 
of  Goedvriendt.  Goedvriendt  paints  mushrooms  and 
toad-stools,  great  specimens  with  magnificent  red,  yel- 
low or  green  heads — dangerous,  poisonous-looking  de- 
formations, but  yet  how  weirdly  beautiful!  Goed- 
vriendt's  mushrooms  are  growing  out  of  doors,  that  is, 
they  appear  to  be  springing  out  of  the  leafy  mold  of  the 
woods,  but  the  darkness  of  the  tree  trunks  behind  them 
is  more  like  that  of  a  tapestry  curtain.  These  mush- 
rooms are,  we  believe,  not  studies  of  life,  but  composi- 
tions of  a  very  original  character. 

Most  of  these  painters  just  mentioned  may  be  called 
decorative,  exotic,  still-life  painters.     With  the  others 

[186] 


MODERN  DUTCH  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

they  form  a  group  whose  work  will  certainly  last.  More 
names  could  be  added,  for  still-life  painting  is  popular 
with  modem  artists.  There  is  de  Zwart  who  loves  the 
rich  reds  of  geraniums,  and  Hobbe  Smit  who  prefers 
the  decorative  effects  of  Chinese  vases  with  flowers.  Van 
Wyngaerdt  with  his  lobsters,  copper  kettles  and  jugs 
shows  the  influence  of  Manet,  while  Jan  Sluyters  with 
his  decorative  patches  and  distorted  drawing  shows  the 
influence  of  Cezanne.  Independent  of  any  influence, 
apparently,  is  de  Winter,  called  an  Expressionist,  who 
seeks  the  mystical  symbolism  of  flowers.  The  list  could 
go  on,  but  it  is  far  from  the  purpose  of  this  chapter  to 
be  encyclopaedic.  It  is  enough  to  indicate  the  work  that 
is  being  done  today  in  the  land  where  still-life  painting 
was  bom. 


[187] 


CHAPTER  8 

American  Still-Life  Painting 


CHAPTER  8 

I.    Flowers 
Lataege,  1835-1910 

John  Laf arge  returned  to  New  York  from  his  travels 
in  Europe  in  the  winter  of  1857-58.  He  had  not  yet 
started  on  his  career  as  a  painter — ^he  still  intended  to 
take  up  law.  But,  as  we  know,  he  was  destined  to  be  an 
artist,  and  not  a  year  had  elapsed  after  his  return  before 
he  had  thrown  himself  heart  and  soul  into  his  life  work. 
Curiously  enough,  his  first  pictures  were  landscapes  and 
still-Hves.  From  1859  throughout  the  sixties  he  pro- 
duced the  series  of  flower  studies  which  gave  him  a  po- 
sition alongside  of  Fantin-Latour  as  one  of  the  great 
interpreters  of  flowers  in  the  nineteenth  century. 

It  was  curious  that  his  first  pictures  should  have  been 
still-Uves  or  flower  studies,  because  the  painting  of 
flowers  was  not  considered  at  that  time,  in  America  at 
least,  to  be  a  very  high  aim  in  art.  What  training  La- 
farge  had  received,  what  influences  had  been  exerted 
upon  him,  were  either  academic  or  romantic.  Although 
no  young  man  could  have  enjoyed  a  more  liberalizing, 

[  191  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

cosmopolitan  training  than  he,  there  was  little  inspira- 
tion in  the  art  schools  of  Europe  for  a  still-life  painter. 
Certainly  neither  the  atelier  of  Couture,  nor  the  associa- 
tion of  the  Pre-Raphaehtes  would  have  tinned  Laf  arge's 
thoughts  to  flower  painting.  Fantin-Latour,  VoUon, 
Bonvin  and  the  rest  were  all  of  his  own  age  and  had  not 
yet  done  their  remarkable  still-life  work.  Even  Courbet 
had  not  arrived  at  his  still-life  period. 

In  America  there  was  no  precedent  whatever  for 
flower  painting.  It  is  difficult  for  us  to  put  ourselves 
back,  in  thought,  to  those  provincial  times,  when,  in 
America,  not  even  the  Barbizon  painters  were  known. 
American  art  was  still  a  part  of  the  English  school. 
Artists  outside  the  domain  of  portraiture  occupied  them- 
selves with  the  historical  episode  or  romance,  or  with  the 
familiar  sentimental  genre.  In  landscape  the  romantic 
or  grandiose  was  considered  to  be  the  only  kind  sublime 
enough  for  art.  "The  Hudson  River  School"  was 
struggling  to  express  the  individual  beauties  of  Amer- 
ican scenery.  Much  good  work  was  done,  but  it  must 
be  admitted  that  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century 
was  a  period  when  art  had  sunk  to  a  very  low  ebb.  The 
great  portrait  painters  of  England  and  the  few  in 
America  were  dead.  The  Pre-Raphaelite  movement 
was  just  awakening  England,  but  nothing  was  as  yet 
awakening  America.  Because  of  the  decay  of  the  Eng- 
lish school  and  of  the  Puritanic  prejudice  against  the 
French,  American  artists  had  turned  to  Diisseldorf — 
the  centre  of  romance — and  to  Munich  for  inspiration. 
They  could  scarcely  have  timied  to  a  worse  source. 

For  Lafarge  with  his  Parisian  connections,  to  have 

[192] 


AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

started  out  as  a  painter,  of  whatever  kind,  in  America, 
was  therefore  a  courageous  experiment  on  his  part.  But 
he  met  with  William  Morris  Hunt,  a  Paris-trained  man. 
With  his  encouragement  and  assistance  it  was  possible 
for  Laf arge  to  continue. 

We  have  not  yet  accounted  for  his  interest  in  flower 
painting.  This  was  due  to  his  knowledge  of  and  appre- 
ciation for  Japanese  art.  That  Lafarge  so  early  in  hfe, 
and  so  early  in  the  nineteenth  centiuy,  should  have  un- 
derstood the  significance  of  the  Japanese  is  no  sKght  in- 
dication of  his  keen  aesthetic  insight.  Japanese  prints 
had  only  just  been  introduced  into  the  West.  There 
were  few  artists  who  saw  anything  in  them  beyond 
their  decorative  character,  and  this  was  considered  to 
be  so  trifling  as  to  be  fit  only  for  fans  and  seashore  cot- 
tages. Lafarge,  from  the  very  first,  and  independently, 
saw  the  importance  of  this  oriental  art.  Whistler, 
Manet,  Monet,  and  a  few  others  in  France,  it  is  true, 
were  experimenting  with  Japanese  design  and  tonality, 
but  it  must  be  remembered  we  are  speaking  of  1860. 

Lafarge's  flower-studies  are  by  no  means  adaptations 
of  Japanese  designs.  They  are  not  even  Japanesque  in 
character.  On  the  contrary,  they  are  thoroughly  west- 
ern, naturalistic  and  painted  from  direct  observation. 
Lafarge  was  sensible  enough  to  know  that  as  the  in- 
heritor of  western  traditions  in  painting,  and  accustomed 
as  he  was  from  infancy  to  certain  media  and  tools,  certain 
ways  of  looking  at  things,  he  would  find  it  impossible  to 
throw  over  every  accepted  formula  and  instead  to  take 
over  oriental  formulas  and  an  oriental  point  of  view. 
But  it  was  clear  to  him,  as  it  has  become  clear  to  us, 

[19S] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

that  the  Chinese  and  the  Japanese  knew  mfinitely  more 
about  flower  painting  than  Europeans  did,  especially 
more  about  the  decorative  expressiveness  of  flowers. 

The  difference  may  best  be  understood  by  comparing 
flower  painting  in  Europe  up  to  Laf  arge's  time  with  the 
Japanese.  In  the  West,  de  Heem,  Mignon  and  van 
Huysum  had  been  the  accepted  masters  of  this  art. 
They  had  established  an  infinitely  delicate  style,  minute- 
ly accurate  and  highly  ornate.  While  their  own  products 
are  to  be  highly  valued  for  their  sumptuousness  and 
richness,  their  influence  was  bad,  as  it  led  to  a  photo- 
graphic literalness  or  reaUsm,  which  in  the  hands  of  their 
followers  became  mere  imitation.  The  Japanese,  on 
the  other  hand,  as  we  have  seen,  were  more  impression- 
istic, that  is,  they  represented  the  character,  the  spirit 
of  flowers,  but  more  than  that  they  sought  to  express 
the  decorative  value  of  them.  This  is  what  Laf arge  did 
(Fig.  75). 

Lafarge  sought  the  spirit  of  flowers  rather  than  their 
botanical  form.  RecaUing  his  early  flower  studies,  he 
himself  said,  "There  were  certain  in  which  I  tried  to  give 
something  more  than  a  study  or  a  handsome  arrange- 
ment. Some  few  were  paintings  of  the  water-lily,  which 
has  always  appealed  to  the  sense  of  something  of  a  mean- 
ing— a  mysterious  appeal  such  as  comes  to  us  from 
certain  arrangements  of  notes  of  music."^  His  "Wild 
Rose  and  Water  Lily"  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  M.  B. 
PhiHpp  of  New  York  illustrates  as  clearly  as  any  of 
his  pictures  this  subjective  feeling.  It  represents  the 
margin  of  a  pool  where  a  clump  of  wild  roses  is  reflected 

1  Cortissoz,  p.  136. 

[  194  ] 


H 

gS 

*"<#»> 

:z;h 

ir  ■^"'2 

fi^.  -'«*iK 

sS 

C^.--f 

«o 

'^^^SiaH 

"*^»^.. -. 

<:^ 

=>*.• 

o<< 

"9 

<tj  Cfi 

'.«i 

M  H 

P5  t^ 

J* 

d, 

AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

in  the  iridescent  water.  One  large,  magnificent  water- 
lily,  growing  close  by  a  great  lily-leaf,  occupies  the  fore- 
ground of  the  picture.  It  is  a  bit  of  nature,  in  no  sense 
a  formal  arrangement.  Only  a  part  of  the  rose  clump 
is  seen,  just  four  or  five  flowers  are  allowed  to  counter- 
balance the  one  large  lily.  It  is  not  a  Japanese  arrange- 
ment— the  liquid  water,  the  reflections,  the  dampness 
and  wetness  are  all  too  natural,  but  one  can  hardly  con- 
ceive of  the  picture  having  been  painted  save  for  La- 
farge's  intimacy  with  Japanese  art. 

That  Lafarge  was  interested  in  flowers  in  a  way  en- 
tirely new  to  the  western  world  is  indicated  by  the  large 
scale  of  his  compositions.  He  wished  to  paint  his  flowers 
in  their  environment,  growing  out  of  doors,  or  decora- 
tively  arranged  in  the  house.  Hence  his  canvases  are 
necessarily  large,  and  produce  on  the  part  of  the  beholder 
in  a  surprising  way  the  lavish  effect  of  nature. 

Lafarge's  flower  studies  occupied  only  a  short  period 
of  his  career.  They  were  experiments  with  him,  but  he 
painted  enough  to  show  the  never-ending  possibilities  of 
flower  compositions.  Each  kind  of  flower  presented  to 
him  a  new  problem — for  each  demanded  individual 
treatment.  Violets — how  should  they  be  painted?  In  a 
shallow  bowl?  And  where?  On  a  window  sill,  with  the 
window  open  where  the  breeze  can  waft  their  fragrance 
to  the  chance  beholder?  Roses — how  should  they  be 
placed?  On  a  table,  against  a  curtain,  where  the  light 
can  play  upon  them  and  contrast  their  delicate  splendor 
against  the  sombreness  of  their  surroundings? 

Such  questions  Lafarge  was  continually  trying  to 
solve,  and  these  are  questions  which  every  flower  painter 

[195] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

must  ask  himself.  If  the  expressiveness  of  flowers  be 
understood,  their  interpretation  becomes  one  of  the  most 
fascinating  studies  for  the  painter.  To  catch  the  evanes- 
cence of  poppies,  the  delicacy  of  roses  or  the  subtlety  of 
morning  glories,  the  pure  decorative  quality  of  fox- 
gloves, cameUias  or  peonies  is  a  pursuit  worthy  of  every 
effort. 

Lafarge,  Fantin-Latour  and  the  Japanese  have  revo- 
lutionized the  art  of  flower  painting  in  the  West.  Note- 
worthy in  America  are  the  names  of  Maria  Oakey  Dew- 
ing, Wilton  Lockwood,  two  pupils  of  Lafarge,  Julia 
Dillon  and  Howard  Gardner  Gushing. 

Wilton  Lockwood,  1861-1914,  was  principally  a  por- 
traitist. A  work  which  well  illustrates  his  style  is  his 
portrait  of  John  Lafarge.  Thoughtfully  studied,  ana- 
lytical, it  shows  the  American  master  deep  in  contempla- 
tion, and  removed  from  too  harsh  a  view  by  a  soft  film 
of  atmosphere.  This  "envelope,"  as  it  has  been  called, 
Lockwood  uses  in  his  flower  studies.  Only  one  of  these 
latter  need  be  cited— the  very  fine  example  in  the  Metro- 
politan Museum  (Fig.  77) .  It  is  a  vase  of  peonies.  The 
handsome  flowers  are  delicately,  subtly  suggested  as 
though  dimly  seen.  It  is  a  naturalistic  study,  carefully 
drawn,  absolutely  truthful,  but  so  gently  handled  that 
one  feels  that  the  painter  understood  his  flowers  and 
their  vanishing  beauty. 

The  art  of  Howard  Gardiner  Gushing  (1869-1916) ,  is 
the  most  exotic  of  that  of  any  American  painter,  save 
perhaps  that  of  Henry  Golden  Dearth.     He  has  en- 

[196] 


AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

deavored  perhaps  more  than  any  one  else  to  catch  the 
spirit  of  the  Orient.  His  pictures  oftentimes  recall  the 
Japanese,  at  other  times  the  Chinese,  but  one  can  see  the 
Persian  and  the  Indian  in  them  as  well.  The  fact  is 
that  they  breathe  the  Orient ;  his  figures  are  unreal,  they 
are  dreams  or  visions  of  light  and  gorgeous,  briUiant  col- 
oring. His  women,  small-eyed,  red-haired,  in  dazzling 
robes,  move  in  a  world  as  strange  as  that  of  the  Arabian 
Nights.  There  are  no  analogies  we  can  make  in  regard 
to  him.  The  names  of  such  painters  as  Whistler  and 
Henri,  two  extremes,  who  were  influenced  by  the  art 
of  Asia,  rush  to  our  lips  only  to  be  forced  back  again, 
or  we  think  of  the  illustrators  of  mysterious  fairy  tales 
like  Howard  Pyle  or  Edmund  Dulac.  But  strange  to 
say  we  are  reminded,  too,  of  that  far-distant  painter, 
Simone  Martini,  and  we  do  not  repel  the  thought,  for 
this  Sienese  primitive  was  exotic  too. 

To  describe  his  pictures  is  to  explain  them  best.  The 
one  in  the  Metropolitan  is  entitled  "Interior"  and  is 
one,  presumably,  of  an  American  home — but  one  of 
those  furnished  in  a  pseudo-Japanese  style.  The  walls 
are  pale,  with  delicate  opal  tones,  which  reflect  the  glow 
that  radiates  from  distant  unseen  openings.  A  faint 
design  of  pine  branches  decorates  them.  Against  the 
wall  and  in  the  foreground  is  a  large,  carved  teakwood 
table,  with  highly  polished  top,  on  which  are  three  vases : 
one  large,  with  a  red  and  blue  design,  stands  between  two 
smaller  ones  of  ivory  tone.  Through  a  doorway  half 
hidden  behind  the  table,  radiant  in  light,  there  is  a  Httle 
child,  with  blue  dress  and  resplendent  hair.    The  figure 

[  197  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

is  undoubtedly  a  portrait,  but  in  spite  of  the  fact  the 
picture  is  that  of  an  interior — and  of  still-life. 

One  of  the  finest  of  Gushing' s  still-lives  is  that  which 
the  writer  remembers  in  the  Pennsylvania  Academy's 
one  hundred  and  tenth  annual  exhibition  of  1915  (Fig. 
78).  It  is  a  decorative  arrangement  of  flowers,  in  the 
true  Japanese  style.  The  background  is  a  wallpaper  of 
pale  tones  with  Chinese  landscapes  very  faintly  pat- 
terned. Against  this  is  placed  a  plain  dark  lacquered 
table  with  slender  legs  and  on  this  is  a  tall  vase  of  simple 
dahlias,  and  a  flat  bowl  of  spirea.  There  could  be  no 
better  juxtaposition  of  shapes.  The  coloring  is  even 
more  decorative.  Imagine  the  grey  tones  of  the  wall- 
paper, against  this  the  light  ivory  tones  of  the  vases,  the 
deep  mahogany  of  the  table,  the  white  and  yellow  of  the 
dahlias  with  their  green  leaves,  and  the  deep  pinks  and 
brown  of  the  spirea.  Totally  unlike  anything  by  Fan- 
tin-Latour  or  Laf  arge,  it  is  nothing  more  than  a  decora- 
tion, but  splendid  as  such,  and  of  exquisite  taste. 

It  is  one  of  the  most  regrettable  circumstances  in 
American  art  history  that  this  gifted  artist  died  at  the 
age  of  forty-seven,  for  had  he  lived,  he  would  undoubt- 
edly have  created  a  body  of  work  as  distinctive  as  it  was 
akin  in  many  respects  to  that  of  Henry  Golden  Dearth. 

Maria  Oakey  Dewing  is  a  flower  painter  whose  repu- 
tation was  gained  in  the  days  of  VoUon  and  Fantin- 
Latour.  Her  flowers  have  frequently  been  compared  to 
those  of  the  two  great  French  masters — compliment 
enough.  They  should  also  be  compared  to  those  of  So- 
tatsu,  for  the  best  and  most  characteristic  flower  pieces 

[  198  ] 


HOWARD  GARDINER  GUSHING 
SPIREA  AND  SINGLE  DAHLIAS 

METROPOLITAN    MUSEUM,    NEW    YORK 


AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

of  Mrs.  Dewing  show  the  same  appreciation  of  and  re- 
spect for  flowers  as  do  the  works  of  the  great  Japanese 
screen  painter. 

Mrs.  Dewing's  art,  however,  is  the  result  purely  and 
simply  of  her  own  observation  of  flowers.  She  is  a  bot- 
anist. She  loves  her  flower  garden  and  she  loves  to 
watch  her  flowers  grow.  "When  I  paint  flowers,"  she 
says,  "I  paint  more  than  I  see.  I  paint  what  I  know  is 
there.  For  example,  I  know  how  the  poppy  bursts  its 
calyx,  so  that  when  I  paint  poppies  they  are  true  to 
nature." 

The  impressionist — or  any  modemer  for  that  matter 
— regards  this  attitude  toward  art  with  disdain.  To  the 
laboratory  with  botany !  There  is  a  danger  from  scien- 
tific accuracy  in  art,  but  a  Japanese  would  understand 
the  point  of  view  of  Maria  Oakey  Dewing.  One  of  her 
best  canvases  was  owned  by  no  less  a  connoisseur  than 
Mr.  Charles  L.  Freer  of  Detroit  (Fig.  76).  It  is  an 
out-of-doors  study  of  poppies  and  mignonette,  growing 
in  a  garden.  The  canvas  is  completely  filled  with  the 
gorgeous  plants — the  red  and  white  poppies  bending 
their  heads,  and  the  tall  white  spurs  of  mignonette  shoot- 
ing up  among  the  maze  of  green  leaves. 

Other  pictures  in  this  style  are:  "The  Lilac  Bush" 
owned  by  Mr.  John  Gellatly  of  New  York,  a  large 
canvas,  six  by  four  feet,  with  an  entire  lilac  bush,  a 
flowering  almond  and  a  bed  of  narcissus ;  "Rose  Gar- 
den" formerly  owned  by  Ambassador  Whitelaw  Reid; 
"Calla  LiHes"  in  Smith  College,  "Lilies  and  Larkspur" 
also  in  Smith  College,  and  "Carnations"  formerly  owned 
by  William  M.  Chase. 

[  199  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

These  remarkable  works  are  absolutely  unique.  There 
is  nothing  else  like  them  in  the  field  of  flower  painting. 
Chase,  a  flower  painter  himself,  called  such  pictures  as 
her  "Poppies  and  Mignonette"  "impeccable."  The 
closest  approach  to  them  are  the  screens  of  Koyetsu 
or  Sotatsu.  Yet  the  idea  of  painting  flowers  out  of 
doors  the  artist  derived  from  her  master,  John  Lafarge. 
There  is  in  reality  no  foreign  influence  to  be  detected  in 
them,  not  that  of  the  plein-airistSj  and  certainly  not  that 
of  the  impressionists. 

Much  of  her  work  is  of  varying  quality,  and  many  of 
her  studies  of  flowers  in  vases  are  not  to  be  compared 
with  her  earher  out-of-door  work.  It  is  but  seldom  that 
she  appears  as  a  colorist  or  as  a  luminist.  Often  her 
botanical  accuracy  at  the  expense  of  brightness  and 
lightness  and  freshness  is  painful.  But,  judged  by  her 
best  work,  Maria  Oakey  Dewing  remains  one  of  the 
most  distinguished  flower  painters  in  America. 

No  discussion  of  flower  painting  in  America,  however 
brief,  is  complete  without  mention  of  J.  Alden  Weir, 
the  late  president  of  the  New  York  Academy  of  Design. 
His  recent  death  has  served  to  evoke  a  fuller  apprecia- 
tion of  his  work,  and  the  memorial  exhibitions  which 
are  now  being  arranged  will  happily  bring  before  a 
wider  pubhc  a  knowledge  of  the  scope  of  his  talent. 

For  suavity  of  brushwork  and  keen  sensitiveness  of 
the  delicacy  of  flowers,  his  early  flower  studies  are  un- 
surpassed (Fig.  79).  He  was  not  a  modernist  in  the 
sense  of  breaking  with  traditions,  and  seeking  bold  deco- 
rative effects  of  design  and  color  at  the  expense  of  refine- 

[  200  ] 


J.  ALDEN  WEIR,  ROSES 

COIXECTION    OF    MR.    C.    I,.    BAI-DWIK 


AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

ment  of  form.  Like  Fantin-Latour  he  accepted  the  prin- 
ciples of  painting  which  he  deemed  imperishable,  without 
being  bound  to  them,  and  thus,  unhampered  by  new 
theories,  he  was  able  to  give  his  imagination  free  play. 
In  other  words,  he  felt  that  technical  accomplishment 
should  be  subordinated  to  spiritual  qualities.  His  still- 
life  studies,  as  well  as  his  figures  and  landscapes  are 
revelations  of  the  man's  fine  personality — poetic,  sensi- 
tive, responsive  to  inward  beauty. 

As  was  natural  with  a  painter  of  this  type,  his  sub- 
jects were  not  new.  He  delighted  to  paint  dead  hares 
with  copper  kettles  and  green  bottles,  or  tall  silver 
goblets  with  baskets  of  fruit  and  of  flowers,  but  with 
a  modem  regard  for  the  reahties  of  form  and  of  texture 
without  meticulous  attention  to  detail.  So  that  we  can 
truthfully  say  that  the  still-lives  of  J.  Alden  Weir  are 
of  the  fine  old  tradition  freshened  by  his  own  personal 
vision. 

II.    Fish 

Chase,  1849-1916 

William  Merritt  Chase  was,  during  his  lifetime,  the 
most  conspicuous  still-life  painter  in  America.  He  ob- 
tained his  early  training  in  Munich  under  Piloty  and 
Wilhelm  Kaulbach  the  Younger,  but  it  is  doubtful 
whether  he  was  permanently  influenced  by  either 
painter.  He  was  more  inspired  by  the  old  masters.  At 
that  time  Hans  Makart  was  one  of  the  Munich  celebri- 
ties. His  studio  was  a  museum  of  antiquities.  Here 
he  collected  rich  oriental  carpets,  heavy  silken  stuffs, 

[  201  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

Japanese  vases,  weapons  and  inlaid  furniture.  Richly 
ornamented  German  chests  of  the  Renaissance  stood 
near  Chinese  idols  and  Greek  terra-cottas,  Smyrna  rugs, 
Gobelins  and  old  Italian  and  Netherland  pictures  hung 
on  the  walls.  These  objects  with  which  he  surrounded 
himself  contributed  to  give  elegance,  richness  of  color- 
ing, and  variety  to  his  art.  Makart  was  not  by  any 
means  unique  as  an  artist  in  loving  such  things,  but 
the  fame  of  his  studio  must  have  inspired  the  envy  of 
Chase.  We  are  reminded  of  this  association,  for  Chase 
likewise  drew  into  his  studio  many  a  rare  bit  of  old  brass 
and  copper,  tapestry,  French  and  Flemish  furniture  and 
pictures.  He  loved  things  for  their  face  value,  their 
rich  surfaces,  and  the  interesting  contrasts  of  form  and 
color  which  they  made.  Moreover  such  a  wealth  of  ob- 
jects could  give  him  abundant  material  for  still-hves. 

Chase  was  not  a  painter  of  the  inwardness  of  things. 
In  his  portraits  he  achieved  a  startling  distinction.  He 
caught  the  resemblance  and  gave  to  his  sitters  a  dignity 
which  was  always  noteworthy.  But  there  is  little  analy- 
sis, psychology  or  mystery  about  them.  For  what  inter- 
ested him  was  the  texture  of  garments  or  the  delicate 
surface  of  skin.  "If  you  can  paint  a  pot,  you  can  paint 
an  angel,"  was  an  expression  attributed  to  him.  This 
being  the  case,  he  was  best  at  still-life  painting  where 
the  surface  values  of  things  coimt  for  most. 

In  this  realm  he  was  unchallenged.  From  his  earliest 
period  his  still-lives  were  a  success.  When  he  returned 
to  St.  Louis,  after  his  European  training,  he  began 
painting  portraits  and  still-lives,  but  it  was  the  latter 
which  made  him  most  famous.    During  his  whole  life 

[202] 


AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

he  turned  to  still-life  painting  as  his  recreation— it  was 
what  he  most  loved  to  do. 

Chase,  like  VoUon,  showed  httle  interest  in  modem  art 
theories.  Manet's  passion  for  structure,  the  Impres- 
sionists' preoccupation  for  the  transitory  effects  of  hght, 
Cezanne's  revolt  against  the  conventions  of  form,  did  not 
affect  him.  He  returned  rather  to  the  old  masters  of 
Holland;  it  may  be  said  that  he  revived  in  America  the 
art  of  the  Dutch  still-life  masters  and  of  Chardin.  He 
recalls  most  Abraham  van  Beyeren,  the  great  painter 
of  fish. 

When  one  comes  think  of  it,  fish  are  the  most  paint- 
able  objects  in  nature.  Their  fluid  quality,  their  slimi- 
ness,  their  lustre,  their  brilliancy  of  color  lend  them- 
selves most  readily  to  the  art  of  a  painter  in  oils.  Not 
that  they  are  easy  to  paint — on  the  contrary,  it  requires 
the  utmost  dexterity  of  brushwork  to  obtain  their  fresh 
and  shimmering  sheen.  And  it  cannot  be  done  by  pro- 
longed, laborious  work.  A  dead  fish  loses  its  fishiness 
on  long  acquaintance,  while  at  the  same  time  it  gains 
other  qualities  we  need  not  mention. 

One  of  the  best  examples  of  Chase's  studies  of  fish  is 
fortunately  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum  (Fig.  80) .  The 
canvas  displays  three  fish  lying  on  a  platter  on  which  is 
also  a  red  apple.  Close  by  are  two  bright  green  peppers 
on  a  dark  green  cloth-covered  table,  while  in  the  back- 
ground are  a  tall  copper  vessel  and  a  dark  red  bowl.  The 
objects  are  all  placed  in  deep  shadow,  save  the  fish,  on  one 
of  which  especially  the  light  is  concentrated.  This  effect 
contributes  to  the  richness  of  the  coloring  and  enhances 
the  shimmer  of  the  fish.    Chase  was  accustomed  to  use 

[  203  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

siccatif  and  varnish  as  a  medium,  which  gives  great  lustre 
but  which  requires  quick  execution.  It  is  possible  that 
this  mixture  was  used  in  this  picture.  According  to  his 
pupil,  Miss  Roof,  his  fish  pictures  were  completed  in  a 
single  day.  The  device  of  placing  green  peppers  and  a 
red  apple  near  the  fish — ^he  was  especially  fond  of  a  note 
of  red — shows  that  the  painter  knew  the  value  of  con- 
trasting colors,  as  well  as  the  added  interest  aroused  by 
a  variety  of  shapes. 

One  of  his  more  elaborate  compositions  of  fish  is  in 
the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.  Painted  boldly  with 
free,  fluid  strokes,  it  displays  three  groups  of  fish  on  a 
table.  In  the  background  is  a  plate  with  three  large 
fish  and  a  large  earthen  bowl;  in  front  is  a  small  bowl 
and  a  plate  of  smaller  fish,  while  on  the  table  hes  a  large 
cod  with  a  few  smaller  fish  like  smelts  nearby.  The 
painting  is  not  noteworthy  as  design,  but  for  splendor 
of  color  it  is  all  that  can  be  desired. 

A  better  example  is  his  "Enghsh  Cod"  in  the  Cor- 
coran Gallery,  Washington.  The  principal  object  is 
a  great  codfish  lying  on  a  Chinese  plate.  A  few  smaller 
fish  are  grouped  near  it.  In  the  background  is  a  large 
brightly-lighted  bucket.  This  is  the  kind  of  picture 
which  recalls  van  Beyeren. 

Chase  did  not  by  any  means  confine  himself  to  still- 
lives  of  fish.  His  "Autimin  Still-Life"  exhibited  in  the 
first  Corcoran  Gallery  Exhibition  of  1907,  shows  a  table 
with  a  large  sliced  melon  with  other  smaller  fruit.  In 
the  melon  we  are  reminded  of  Vollon.  "The  Belgian 
Melon,"  painted  in  Bruges  in  1912,  is  one  of  his  most 
notable  still-lives.    It  recalls  an  old  Dutch  composition 

[204] 


AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

— a  "breakfast  piece"  with  urn,  wine-glass,  and  platter 
of  grapes,  the  great  melon  being  most  conspicuous.* 

These  are  only  a  few  examples  of  Chase's  still-lives. 
Fortunately  nearly  every  important  American  art  gal- 
lery possesses  a  specimen  of  his  work,  and  hence  they 
are  accessible  to  any  one  interested  in  this  branch  of 
painting. 

Chase  was  a  great  teacher  and  had  many  pupils,  some 
of  whom  have  become  painters  with  estabKshed  reputa- 
tions. Among  these  Charles  W.  Hawthorne  is  of  in- 
terest to  us  as  a  still-life  painter. 

Hawthorne  is  best  known  for  his  figure  pieces.  These 
are  often  times  arrangements  or  designs  with  figures 
introduced  as  a  pretext  for  the  still-life  associated  with 
them.  It  will  be  remembered  that  a  group  of  Dutch 
genre  masters  painted  compositions  of  this  kind — 
Teniers,  Dou,  and  van  Mieris  in  particular.  From  these 
as  well  as  from  Vermeer,  de  Hoog  and  Terborch,  a 
group  of  American  painters  have  derived  much  inspira- 
tion. These  picture  for  us  interiors  delightful  purely 
for  their  objective  charms.  Edmund  C.  Tarbell  is  one 
of  this  group.  In  his  "Girls  Reading,"  "Girls  Crochet- 
ing," "A  Girl  Mending,"  and  "New  England  Interior," 
he  is  as  much  occupied  with  the  tables  and  chairs,  the 
bric-a-brac  and  the  details  of  the  room  as  he  is  in  the 
gracefully  bended  heads  of  his  figures.  Joseph  de  Camp 
draws  our  attention  to  the  still-hf  e  in  his  pictures  by  the 
titles  he  gives  them.  "The  Blue  Cup"  is  an  example  of 
this.    William  N.  Paxton  insists  even  too  strongly  on 

2  Reproduced  in  "Life  and  Art  of  W.  M.  Chase,"  by  Roof,  p.  240. 

[  205  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

the  silk,  satin  and  porcelain  in  his  pictures.  His  "1875" 
is  photographic  in  its  fidelity  to  objective  fact.  "The 
Housemaid"  is  another.  There  are  several  other  paint- 
ers we  could  mention,  but  Hawthorne  is  the  most  ac- 
complished of  the  group  for  he  combines  most  happily 
figures  and  their  associated  objects. 

Some  of  his  earliest  pictures  are  still-lives.  After  his 
period  of  study,  when  he  was  seeking  a  place  to  settle 
down  to  work,  he  chose  Cape  Cod  and  Provincetown. 
Here  he  was  naturally  drawn  to  the  fisherf oik,  and  he 
painted  not  only  these  rugged  seafarers  with  their  fish, 
but  the  fish  themselves.  Doubtless  the  example  of  Chase 
inspired  him.  His  first  exhibition  canvases  were  pure 
still-hves,  of  fish  and  of  pots  and  pans.  With  these  he 
gained  a  reputation  as  a  colorist  and  brilliant  technician. 
Successful  with  these  he  later  introduced  figures. 

Many  of  his  simple  figure  compositions  have  a  human 
quality  which  has  made  them  as  popular  as  some  of  the 
modern  Dutch  pictures  of  similar  character.  "The  Boy 
with  Shad"  shows  a  fine,  bright-looking  lad  with  a  huge 
shad  on  a  salver  which  he  can  barely  support.  The 
forceful  painting  of  the  fish,  with  its  strong  color  is  in 
almost  humorous  contrast  to  the  flat  tones  of  the  boy's 
head  and  blouse;  we  feel  this  is  more  a  study  of  fish 
than  of  boy.  We  feel  the  same  toward  "The  Fisher- 
man's Daughter"  which  is  as  lovely  a  study  of  simple 
childhood  as  has  been  painted  in  America.  The  young 
girl,  so  fresh  and  so  healthy,  so  plainly  dressed,  stands 
by  a  table  on  which  is  a  large  bottle  and  a  few  slices  of 
lemon.  She  holds  in  her  hands  a  large  plate  with  two 
fish  on  it. 

[  206  ] 


AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

Other  pictures  of  this  kind  are  "The  Doyen  of  the 
Fish  Market,"  "La  Gigia  de  I'Auberge,"  "Cleaning 
Fish,"  and  "Refining  Oil." 

Henry  R.  Rittenberg  of  Philadelphia  and  New  York 
is  a  pupil  of  Chase  who  is  carrying  on  the  forceful  style 
of  his  master.  Of  the  younger  painters  of  America  he 
is  perhaps  the  most  brilliant  in  the  realm  of  still-life. 
Thoroughly  modem,  like  Breckenridge,  he  turns  never- 
theless to  the  old  masters  for  inspiration,  many  of  whose 
works  he  has  carefully  copied.  On  his  studio  wall  is  a 
copy  of  Jordaens'  "Fecundity,"*  where  the  marvelous 
groups  of  fruit  have  been  faithfully  reproduced.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  Van  Beyeren  and  Vollon  have  had 
as  much  to  do  with  forming  his  style  as  his  own  master. 
Chase. 

Rittenberg,  as  did  Chase,  loves  to  collect  interesting, 
paintable  objects  of  every  sort.  About  his  walls  and 
on  his  shelves  are  numerous  brass  and  copper  kettles, 
Russian  samovars  and  hand-hammered  bowls,  Chinese 
porcelain  jars,  Japanese  vases,  American  colonial  tea- 
pots, lustre  ware  and  many  other  things  both  rare  and 
strange. 

These  are  the  objects  which  he  introduces  in  his  pic- 
tures. When  he  paints  fish,  with  their  indigo,  green 
and  silvery  tones,  the  copper  vessels  give  him  the  gold 
and  yellow  notes  of  contrast  which  he  desires.  When 
he  paints  flowers,  the  Chinese  vases  come  into  play.  For 
backgrounds  he  has  richly  colored  bits  of  tapestry,  rugs 
or  curtains  (Fig.  81). 

s  In  the  Brussels  Museum. 

[20*7] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

This  is  the  stock  in  trade  that  any  of  his  predecessors 
would  have  used,  and  Rittenberg  arrives  at  results  that 
are  often  very  similar  to  the  works  of  the  older  masters. 
In  his  fish  pictures  he  undoubtedly  recalls  Chase.  He 
paints  in  the  direct  method,  with  a  perfect  dexterity  and 
quickness  of  brushstroke  that  brings  immediate  results. 
His  pictures  must  be  finished  au  premier  coup,  other- 
wise they  are  never  finished.  This  method  involves 
risks ;  possibly  only  one  out  of  four  pictures  vrill  prove 
satisfactory  to  the  painter,  but  Rittenberg  prefers  to 
take  this  risk,  rather  than  laboriously  to  overwork  his 
canvases,  thus  obtaining  a  hard  and  dry  effect.  Hence 
Rittenberg's  successful  pictures  have  a  freshness  that 
few  still-life  pictures  possess.  It  is  obvious  that  with 
fish,  fruit  and  flowers  this  freshness  is  all-essential. 

While  the  brilliant  technique  of  Henry  R.  Rittenberg 
first  impresses  one,  it  is  by  no  means  the  final  impression 
which  one  takes  away.  His  pictures,  generally  large  in 
size,  have  a  splendid  decorative  quality.  I  have  in  mind 
a  canvas  with  two  or  three  vases  of  flowers.  Against 
a  dark  tapestry  curtain,  witlx  some  crumpled  tissue 
paper,  are  the  handsome  forms  of  peonies,  roses,  carna- 
tions and  calendulas,  grouped  in  vases  and  scattered 
about  on  the  table.  These  flowers  are  not  botanically 
studied.  "I  paint  flowers"  said  the  artist  to  the  writer, 
"but  I  never  know  their  names.  I  paint  fish,  and  I  don't 
know  a  shad  from  a  flounder."  How  many  worlds  apart 
are  Henry  R.  Rittenberg  and  Maria  Oakey  Dewing! 
But  Rittenberg  paints  the  character  of  the  things  he 
sees,  and  anyone  scientifically  inclined,  can  give  them 
their  proper  names.    He  aims  first  of  all  at  design  in 

[208] 


AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

composition  and  color,  in  other  words  at  decoration. 
But  instinctively  the  artist  feels  many  subtleties  which 
come  out  in  his  work,  plane  relationship,  tone  values, 
textures,  etc. 

Henry  R.  Rittenberg  is  a  native  of  Libau,  but  his 
art  is  thoroughly  American.  It  has  that  vitality,  exub- 
erance or  freshness  which  we  like  to  call  American,  and 
which  we  hope  will  be  characteristic  of  American  art  for 
many  years  to  come. 

III.    Ancient  and  Decorative  Objects 
Henry  Golden  Dearth^  1864-1918 

The  memorial  exhibition  of  the  works  of  Henry 
Golden  Dearth,  which  is  now  toiu'ing  the  United  States, 
is  one  of  the  most  inspiring  collections  of  its  kind  that  the 
writer  has  been  privileged  to  see — inspiring  because  sur- 
prising, bewildering,  enchanting  and  illuminating. 
One's  eyes  are  opened  to  a  new  world — a  new  existence. 
Even  to  those  who  have  become  familiar  with  the  paint- 
er's latest  style,  the  exhibition  is  astonishing,  for  each 
individual  picture  is  enhanced  and  explained  by  its 
neighbors,  and  the  total  impression  made  is  quite  dif- 
ferent from  that  created  by  simple  scattered  works. 

The  pictures  painted  since  1912  are  by  far  the  most 
distinguished.  These  are  mostly  still-lives,  but  how  un- 
Hke  anything  we  have  ever  seen!  Here  is  an  art  thor- 
oughly modem — expressive  of  the  color  impulses  of  the 
present  day — even  symbolic,  and  yet  how  intelligible  1 
Yes,  we  imderstand  it,  down  to  the  depths  of  our  souls — 
or  at  least  we  beheve  we  understand  it,  just  as  we  do 
the  ancient  myths  and  legends  of  our  race. 

[209] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

Henry  Golden  Dearth  was  a  man  who  loved  the  past, 
but  unlike  many  antiquarian  painters  he  did  not  seek  the 
Renaissance,  Italian,  Dutch  or  French,  but  the  early 
Middle  Ages.  Romanesque  polychrome  wood-carvings, 
Byzantine  ikons,  Gothic  missals — these  objects  of  a  re- 
mote past,  symbolic  of  the  age  of  faith,  meant  more  to 
him  than  the  more  famihar  products  of  the  later  and 
more  accomplished  epoch.  And  because,  no  doubt,  the 
pitiable  images,  Byzantine  or  Gothic,  suggested  mys- 
teries foreign  to  the  modem  mind,  he  chose  them  as 
vehicles  of  a  new  message. 

Byzantine  art,  akin  as  it  is  to  Oriental,  drew  Dearth's 
attention  to  the  East,  and  he  found  in  Persian  textiles, 
Indian  embroideries,  early  Chinese  paintings  and  stone 
carvings,  Japanese  screens  and  color  prints,  the  same 
aesthetic  satisfaction  that  he  found  in  Gothic  sculpture. 
For,  besides  being  symbolic,  the  art  of  the  East  is  essen- 
tially decorative;  hence  these  things  gave  him  material 
for  the  richest  decorations  that  he  could  desire. 

Henry  Golden  Dearth  handled  his  materials  in  a 
perfectly  modern  way.  He  undoubtedly  profited  by  all 
that  was  good  in  Cezanne — ^his  color  symbolism — his 
freedom  from  academic  formulas.  Dearth  foresaw  that 
the  art  of  the  immediate  futm*e  must  be  expressive  of 
color.  Hence  the  still-lives  of  his  latest  phase  are  chiefly 
interpretations  in  color. 

It  is  readily  seen  that  Dearth  derived  little  inspiration 
from  any  of  his  predecessors  in  still-life  painting.  There 
are  no  bonds  of  sympathy  between  him  and  Vollon, 
Chardin,  or  the  Dutch.  Nor  is  he  in  the  least  like  Chase 
or  Carlsen.    He  resembles  no  one — not  Cushmg,  for  the 

[210] 


AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

latter  studied  form — not  any  of  the  western  painters 
influenced  by  the  Japanese,  for  these  necessarily  insist 
upon  line. 

Dearth's  sources  are  Gothic  and  Byzantine;  his  kin- 
ship is  with  the  East,  but  his  aii;  is  distinct  and  personal 
— entirely  new  in  the  present-day  world. 

One  of  his  canvases  he  entitles  "A  Xllth  Century 
Virgin."*  It  represents  a  polychrome  madonna.  The 
background  is  an  embroidery  with  the  Crucifixion  de- 
signed upon  it — the  little  statue  is  placed  in  front  of 
this,  at  the  foot  of  the  cross.  The  table  cover  on  which 
the  figure  is  placed  is  red,  and  at  one  side  is  a  vase  of 
flowers.  The  severe  formality  of  the  grouping  suggests 
hieratic  religious  thought — the  thought  of  the  twelfth 
century,  but  the  pathos  of  the  battered  statuette  arouses 
a  personal  interest  in  the  beholder  which  almost  makes 
one  forget  that  the  picture  is  a  still-life. 

Another  picture  is  called  "A  Mediaeval  Saint."®  The 
background  is  a  French  tapestry  of  rich  blues  and  reds. 
In  front  of  this  is  a  polychrome  statue  and  a  vase  of 
flowers.  As  in  all  these  still-lives,  there  is  no  tonality, 
no  study  of  light  and  shade,  but  a  flat  pattern  of  bright 
color,  like  a  mosaic  or  tapestry.  The  figures  are  not 
studies  in  form — the  vase  is  obviously  ill  drawn  without 
being  conspicuously  distorted.  The  result  is  primitive 
in  effect. 

The  primitive  quality  in  Dearth's  design  is  plain  in 
the  picture  called  "A  XVth  Century  Group.""     The 

*  In  the  possession  of  Mrs.  Robert  M.  Thompson, 
6  Collection  of  Mrs.  B'red  B.  Pratt. 
6  Collection  of  Mrs.  Michael  Dreicer. 

[211] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

wood  carving  in  this  case  represents  the  fainting  Virgin, 
in  front  of  which  are  some  vases  of  flowers.  It  is  as  if 
an  exceedingly  gifted  child,  who  had  never  learned  how 
to  draw,  but  who  had  a  remarkable  sense  for  color  and 
design,  had  painted  this  picture. 

One  of  his  boldest  designs  is  the  "Madonna"^  where 
the  polychrome  Virgin  and  Child,  with  two  vases  of 
flowers,  is  placed  before  a  black  Persian  embroidered 
background. 

What,  we  are  led  to  ask,  gave  Dearth  the  happy 
thought  of  associating  vases  of  flowers  with  his  madon- 
nas? It  seems  so  appropriate.  Yet  we  dare  say,  any 
one  else  would  have  classed  the  broken  images  with  old 
brasses,  books  and  rosaries,  though  the  life  and  symbol- 
ism and  splendor  would  have  been  lost. 

Perhaps  the  most  striking  and  memorable  design  is 
the  one  called  "Our  Lady."  The  coloring  is  extremely 
bold.  Against  a  grey-white  tapestry  background  is 
placed  a  tall  polychrome  madonna,  silhouetted  dark  and 
rich  in  blues,  reds  and  blacks ;  on  either  side  is  a  vase  of 
flowers.  The  tablecover  is  of  bright  yellow.  Even  this 
bare  description  can  convey  a  sense  of  the  bold  color- 
spotting — almost  barbaric  in  its  gaiety.  The  madonna 
in  this  case  is  particularly  crude,  primitive,  so  that  the 
total  effect  is  strange  and  weird. 

The  oriental  influence  in  the  art  of  the  painter  is  seen 
in  his  "The  Bronze  Buddha."  The  background  is  ap- 
parently an  Indian  shawl,  very  bright  and  highly  col- 
ored. In  front  of  this  is  a  white  table,  the  bronze  statue 
and  a  vase  of  flowers. 

T  In  the  Collection  of  the  Art  Institute  of  Chicago. 

[212] 


AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

"The  Lady  of  the  Iris"  is  more  Chinese  in  feeling 
(Fig.  82) .  The  background  is  a  golden  yellow  silk  em- 
broidery with  a  dainty  little  Chinese  figure,  whose  black 
hair  stands  out  in  decorative  patches.  On  a  pink  table 
cover  are  two  bowls  of  purple  and  white  irises.  The  suc- 
cess with  which  the  painter  has  combined  pink  and  yel- 
low is  striking. 

That  the  painter  could  be  delicate  as  well  as  bold 
is  shown  in  "The  Persian  Jar."  Here  the  background 
is  of  a  light  ivory  color,  with  the  slightest  suggestion  of 
a  pattern.  In  front  of  this  on  a  grey  purplish  white 
cloth,  are  four  vases,  one  the  deep  blue  Persian  jar,  one 
a  Chinese  vase,  and  two  of  iridescent  glass.  The  whole 
picture  is  iridescent,  like  mother-of-pearl  with  its  light- 
bright  coloring. 

The  great  value  of  an  art  like  this  is  that  it  shows  the 
possibility  of  independence  with  rationahsm.  The  art  of 
Henry  Golden  Dearth  is  deeply  emotional,  colorful 
and  symbolic — in  a  sense  it  is  exotic  and  weird,  yet  it  is 
a  true  interpretation,  which  is  intelligible  to  anyone.  He 
himself  did  not  believe  that  a  man  could  create  a  new 
art  by  himself  alone.  He  said  that  the  art  of  those  men 
who  had  created  the  works  which  he  had  loved  most, 
was  not  the  product  of  their  individual  interpretation  of 
nature,  but  the  result  of  a  great  movement. 

That  art  will  Hve  which  is  the  expression  of  a  common 
impulse  of  humanity. 

Emil  Caklsen 

Emil  Carlsen  is  unquestionably  the  most  accom- 
plished master  of  still-life  painting  in  America  today. 
It  would  be  unwise  to  say  he  is  the  most  highly  gifted 

[213] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

master  of  the  art  in  Europe  and  America,  because  it  is 
impossible  to  judge  in  this  way  of  one's  contemporaries 
over  so  wide  a  field.  But  to  one  who  has  been  interested 
in  still-life  painting  for  years,  and  observant  of  what  is 
going  on  in  the  world,  it  is  evident  that  C  arisen  has 
lifted  his  art  to  a  height  it  has  never  reached  before. 
This  is  a  strong  statement,  but  it  can  be  well  supported. 
Doubtless  many  modernists  will  not  agree  to  this,  on  the 
grounds  that  Carlsen's  art  is  obviously  based  on  the 
Dutch  and  on  Chardin  and  therefore  reflects  the  past, 
whereas  a  virile  art,  which  seeks  to  be  an  expression  of 
modem  times,  must  discard  past  conventions  and  strike 
out  on  entirely  new  lines.  There  need  be  no  quarrel  with 
this  opinion.  The  writer's  attitude  toward  new  move- 
ments in  art  is  one  of  observant  respect.  The  work  done 
by  Independents,  especially  in  still-life,  is  interesting; 
whatever  may  be  their  permanent  influence  in  figure 
painting,  they  have  already  opened  up  new  fields  in 
decoration. 

But  Carlsen  is  as  modern — as  independent  as  any- 
body. With  old  materials  he  has  given  a  new  interpre- 
tation to  still-life — a  more  difficult  and  a  more  certain 
accomplishment  than  can,  result  from  experimenting 
with  new  theories,  new  processes. 

We  can  apply  to  Carlsen  our  original  tests  for  what 
good  still-life  painting  ought  to  be.  Is  his  art  the  ex- 
pression of  profoimd  experiences,  visions,  emotions? 
Are  his  still-lives  interpretations  of  these  experiences? 
Do  we,  the  beholders,  share  in  the  artist's  experiences? 

One  cannot  help  but  feel,  after  studying  several  ex- 
amples of  Carlsen's  still-life  that  the  painter  experiences 

[214] 


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EMIL  CARLSEN,  STILL-LIFE 

METROPOLITAN-    MUSEUM,    NEW    YORK 


AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

in  his  work  emotions  of  an  aesthetic  character  more  pro- 
found than  those  of  any  of  the  great  masters  of  still- 
hfe  painting,  from  Chase  and  VoUon,  back  through 
Chardin  to  the  Dutchmen.  Objects  dehghted  the  eyes 
of  these  men ;  their  outward  semblance,  their  form,  their 
coloring,  their  textures,  were  possibilities  for  them  as 
elements  for  design.  But  objects  have  a  more  mystical 
meaning  to  Carlsen;  they  dehght  his  outward  eye  as 
they  do  any  painter,  but  Carlsen  has  an  inward  eye,  a 
faculty  for  discerning  all  that  anyone  else  ever  saw,  but 
more — a  rhythm  and  music  and  poetry,  a  serenity  and 
dignity  and  sublimity  which  makes  his  still-life  group- 
ings classic.  When  gazing  at  a  Carlsen  still-life  one 
falls^into  the  same  contemplative  mood  as  one  does  be- 
fore a  Perugino — or  sometimes  one  feels  the  mystery 
experienced  before  a  Leonardo. 

One  wonders  why — ^until  one  remembers  that  it  is 
not  necessarily  the  subject  matter  that  contributes  to 
one's  mood.  What  leads  one  to  contemplation  before 
a  Perugino  is  the  abstractness  of  Perugino's  viewpoint, 
which,  by  his  own  methods,  he  makes  us  share.  These 
methods  consist  in  broad  over-arching  skies,  a  very  fine 
balance  of  forms  and  of  spaces  and  immobility  in  his 
figures.  What  baffles  one  and  urges  one  to  psychologic 
speculation  before  a  Leonardo  is  due  to  the  attitude  of 
profound  study  of  human  character  on  the  part  of  the 
painter.  The  elusive  shadows  that  play  about  the  face 
and  features  of  his  figures  pass  on  to  us  the  mystery 
which  even  Leonardo  could  not  solve.  Carlsen's  com- 
positions have  a  spaciousness  that  make  them  seem 
always  large.    The  objects  are  enveloped  in  a  soft  at- 

[215] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

mospheric  light  that  subdues  their  outlines  and  half 
hides  their  shapes.  As  he  shows  them  to  us  they  are  not 
literal  things^  dead,  prosaic ;  they  are  not  mere  materials 
with  which  the  artist  has  made  a  pleasing  arrangement. 
They  are  forms  which  we  cannot  define;  they  elude  us, 
mystify  us,  ensnare  us;  we  forget  what  they  are  until 
finally  we  find  ourselves  detached  from  the  actualities 
of  hfe,  off  in  a  speculative  dream  world  where  we  would 
like  to  stay.  When  we  are  rudely  awakened  and  when 
we  return  to  the  world  of  sensibility,  we  vaguely  realize 
that  we  have  experienced  a  new  sensation  of  beauty,  and 
that  forever  after  our  standards  will  be  different — our 
appreciation  for  beautiful  things  more  keen,  our  sym- 
pathies wider  and  broader. 

After  all,  what  can  art  do  for  us  more  than  this?  Can 
a  picture  by  Titian  or  Rembrandt  or  Watteau  do  more 
than  awaken  more  fully  our  perceptions  of  beauty? 
What  more  can  we  ask  of  art?  For  with  a  passion  for 
beauty,  nay  more,  with  an  experience  of  it  which  has 
been  real  and  memorable,  we  have  been  ennobled.  From 
Plotinus  to  Croce,  philosophers  have  taught  that  the  ex- 
perience of  beauty  is  mystical,  closely  akin  to  religious. 
The  deep  significance  of  art  to  the  higher  Hfe  is  too  little 
understood. 

In  the  Metropolitan  Museum  there  is  a  still-life  by 
Carlsen  than  which  I  know  of  nothing  finer  of  its  kind 
(Fig.  83).  On  the  floor  there  is  a  large  basket  about 
which  are  lying  fish  and  clam  shells.  Over  the  basket 
is  thrown  a  white  towel.  This  is  all  there  is  to  it,  but 
let  us  analyze  it.  The  splendid  spaciousness  is  what  first 
impresses  us.    The  basket  is  a  large  one,  as  we  know 

[216] 


EMIL  CARLSEN,  STILL-LIFE 

WORCESTER   ART   MUSEUM 


EMIL  CARLSEN,  STILL-LIFE 

COLLECTION  OF   MR.    FREDERIC    M.    MC  FADDEN,    PHILADELPHIA 


AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

from  the  relative  size  of  the  fish  and  clam  shells  on  the 
floor.  And  yet  it  takes  up  only  a  small  part  of  the  com- 
position. There  is  no  sense  of  crowding.  The  restraint 
of  the  composition — as  in  all  of  Carlsen's  pictures — is 
one  of  its  remarkable  features.  An  envelope  of  atmos- 
phere surrounds  the  objects  and  removes  them  from  too 
harsh  a  scrutiny.  They  are  not  rudely  thrust  before 
us.  The  wall  behind  and  the  floor  are  bare.  The  inter- 
est thus  centres  about  the  basket,  rough  and  broken, 
but  with  what  care  constructed!  It  is  a  basket,  no  hasty 
impression  of  one;  one  feels  rather  than  sees  that  it  is 
accurately  woven.  Notice  how  the  fish  are  grouped. 
The  large  cod  curves  forward  from  the  shadow  of  the 
background,  solid  and  clearly  defined;  on  the  other 
side  is  a  smaller  cod.  Only  one  or  two  clam  shells 
stand  out  distinctly,  the  rest  are  massed  in  shadow. 
But  th^  white  cloth!  There  is  only  one  other  such  cloth, 
and  that  is  in  the  Chardin  still-life  in  the  Boston  Mu- 
seum. Teniers,  Hkewise,  threw  his  napkins  into  folds 
like  that,  but  his  were  not  so  soft,  so  perfectly  natural. 

As  for  the  fish,  they  should  be  compared  to  Chase's. 
Chase's  fish,  we  said,  were  fishy — ^that  is,  they  were  wet 
and  slimy  and  finny.  These  fish  are  also  fishy  enough, 
but  Carlsen  doesn't  paint  things  for  their  surface  value. 
How  is  it  that  he  subdues  their  repugnant  aspect — so 
that  we  do  not  shiver  in  front  of  them — ^we  do  not  know, 
but  Carlsen's  fish  we  would  like  to  stroke. 

One  could  say  much  more  about  this  picture — master- 
piece that  it  is,  but  one  quality  there  is  about  it  that 
stands  out  above  every  other.  That  is  its  inevitability. 
One  realizes  this  only  after  seeing  it  many  times;  it 

[217] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

could  not  be  otherwise.  It  grew  that  way  and  is  immu- 
table. Every  form  is  rightly  placed,  every  line  is  there 
for  a  purpose.  Move  a  fish,  a  clam  shell,  and  the  picture 
is  spoiled. 

Recently,  while  visiting  the  painter  in  his  studio,  the 
writer  was  pleased  to  discover  a  little  color  print  of  a 
Vermeer.  I  do  not  recall  what  picture  of  Vermeer  it 
was,  but  it  reminded  me  of  one  in  the  Widener  Collec- 
tion in  Philadelphia.  The  latter  represented  a  lady  hold- 
ing a  pair  of  scales  in  her  hand.  The  scales  were  just 
evenly  balanced.  A  movement  of  the  arm  would  turn 
them.  That  represents  Vermeer's  art — perfect  balance, 
hence  perfect  rest,  perfect  satisfaction.  And  this  is 
Carlsen's  art — perfect  balance  of  form — perfect  pro- 
portion—completeness. Do  away  with  one  element,  and 
the  composition  is  upset — spoiled.  Herein  consists  the 
classicism  of  his  art,  for  classic  principles  animate  it,  and 
the  same  aesthetic  enjoyment  is  derived  as  from  a  work 
of  the  best  period  of  Greek  art. 

One  of  the  methods  which  C  arisen  employs  to  give 
space  and  elusiveness  to  his  pictures  is  the  slurring  of  the 
line  between  the  foreground  and  the  back.  The  distant 
edge  of  the  table,  or  the  floor  is  lost.  This  is  done  by 
scattering  httle  bits  of  straw  or  dead  leaves,  dried 
flowers,  onions  or  vegetables  where  the  line  would  be — 
just  a  few,  just  enough  obscured  in  the  shadow  to  make 
one  wonder  what  is  back  there.  Onions  with  their  peely 
skins  give  this  effect  in  his  still-life  in  the  Worcester 
Art  Museum  (Fig.  84).  This  is  a  picture  quite  unlike 
the  one  in  New  York,  for  Carlsen  is  versatile  and  fish  is 
by  no  means  his  main  interest.  Here  are  copper  pots  and 

[218] 


AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

earthen  jugs,  on  a  stone  table.  The  whole  is  a  study  in 
rich  coppers  and  ochres  and  greys,  bathed  in  a  quiet  light 
that  softens  everything.  Onions  likewise  appear  in  the 
still-Hfe  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Duncan  Phillips.  The 
main  objects  are  an  old  copper  pitcher,  a  dusty  black 
bottle  and  a  few  bowls — the  onions  are  scattered  about. 

One  of  his  finest  paintings  is  in  the  McFadden  Col- 
lection in  Philadelphia  (Fig.  85) .  A  dead  hare  lies  on  a 
table — or  on  the  floor,  you  cannot  tell  which.  In  back  of 
it  are  two  large  copper  cans  with  lids  and  handles,  and 
behind  these  again  another  dead  hare.  The  background 
is  dark,  and  scattered  about  in  the  shadow  are  a  few 
pieces  of  straw  and  bits  of  leaves.  The  texture  of  the 
rabbit  could  not  have  been  achieved  better  by  Fyt,  nor 
the  surfaces  of  the  kettles  better  by  VoUon,  but  the 
wonderful  charm  of  the  whole  composition  with  its  per- 
fect arrangement,  soft  lighting,  restraint,  has  never  been 
approached  by  any  painter. 

A  few  more  pictures  by  Carlsen  should  be  mentioned 
to  show  the  variety  of  his  interests.  Several  years  ago 
he  painted  flowers.  They  are  not  his  best  works.  In 
these  he  has  not  developed  the  individual  treatment  that 
he  has  in  his  other  works.  A  more  recent  picture,  in  the 
possession  of  the  Macbeth  Galleries — January,  1919 — 
sold  to  a  western  museum,  shows  a  Japanese  fan  out- 
spread against  a  wall,  with  a  white  bowl  in  front  of  it  and 
a  few  dead  flowers.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  simplicity 
of  the  group,  yet  with  these  few  objects  the  painter  has 
achieved  a  decorative  result  not  far  removed  in  spirit 
from  the  Japanese.  The  subject  calls  for  the  most  deli- 
cate, exquisite  handling,  which  we  find  here.    Yet  with 

[219] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

all  this  conscientious  respect  for  the  design  and  textures 
of  the  fan  and  bowl  there  is  that  softening  veil  or  film 
without  which  the  picture  would  seem  hard  and  literal. 

Four  or  five  of  Carlsen's  best  still-lives  are  in  the  col- 
lection of  Mr.  Robert  Hanley.  One  of  these  is  called 
"The  Madonna  of  the  Magnolias,"  and  shows  a  thir- 
teenth century  polychrome  figure. 

The  use  of  old  objects  of  art  is  exemplified  in  another 
still-life  where  the  background  is  a  mediaeval  French 
tapestry,  over  which  hangs  a  string  of  Chinese  beads. 
In  front  is  an  ivory-colored  vase  with  dead  flowers 
(Frontispiece). 

This  short  sketch  of  the  still-life  art  of  Emil  Carlsen 
might  be  closed  with  a  story  which  illustrates  the  power 
of  Carlsen's  work  to  compel  appreciation  and  interest 
even  in  those  hitherto  indifferent  to  the  charm  of  still- 
life  painting. 

One  day  one  of  the  most  prominent  financiers  of  this 
country — a  New  York  banker — came  with  his  wife  to 
Mr.  Carlsen's  studio  to  purchase  a  wedding  present. 
His  wife  greatly  admired  a  still-life  on  the  easel — but 
the  banker  could  see  nothing  in  it — he  did  not  understand 
still-lives.  "But  if  you  like  it,"  he  said  to  his  wife, 
"take  it  home  by  all  means."  Accordingly  the  picture 
was  purchased.  Several  weeks  later  the  financier  re- 
turned to  the  studio.  "Do  you  know,"  he  said  to  the 
painter,  "we  have  kept  your  still-life,  and  I  like  it  better 
than  any  other  picture  in  my  house.  I  want  another." 
He  now  has  three. 

The  work  of  Dines  Carlsen  is  scarcely  second  to  that 
of  his  father.    A  young  man,  not  yet  in  his  twenties,  he 

[220] 


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AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

promises  to  develop  a  style  which  will  do  much  to  pre- 
serve the  prestige  of  still-life  painting  in  America.  He 
enjoys  of  course  the  remarkable  advantage  of  his 
father's  direction,  and  as  we  would  expect,  his  pictures 
and  Emil  Carlsen's  are  much  alike.  This  similarity,  if 
not  identity  of  style  enhances  rather  than  decreases  the 
value  of  Dines'  pictures. 

As  his  work  develops,  his  still-life  pictures  will  cer- 
tainly not  be  better,  for  they  appear  already  to  be  abso- 
lutely accomplished.  But  they  will  be  different,  and 
beyond  a  doubt  more  interesting  on  that  account. 

The  attention  of  the  public  was  first  attracted  to 
Dines  Carlsen  at  the  sale  of  the  collection  of  William  M. 
Chase  when  it  was  revealed  that  the  great  master  of  fish 
still-life  had  possessed  a  picture  by  the  young  painter. 

For  the  past  few  years  Dines  Carlsen  has  exhibited  in 
the  National  Academy  of  Design  each  year  composi- 
tions of  strikingly  decorative  character,  well  drawn  and 
rich  in  coloring.  Happily  his  output  thus  far  is  small, 
as  he  has  wisely  been  restrained  from  the  too  hasty 
stereotyping  of  his  style  which  would  result  from  a  large 
production. 

Generally  he  choses  objects  of  rich  design  and  color 
for  his  compositions.  Great  brazen  bowls,  Chinese  or 
Delft  vases  and  oriental  objects  of  art  have  given  him 
his  opportunities  for  interesting  contrasts.  His  last 
picture  in  the  New  York  Academy  Winter  Exhibition 
called  "The  Spanish  Brazero"  (Fig.  86) ,  showed  a  large 
brass  bowl,  and  a  Chinese  blue  vase  with  a  few  grapes. 
In  the  previous  Spring  Academy  it  was  "The  Bronze 
Bell"  (Fig.  87),  and  in  the  1917  Annual  Exhibition 

[  221  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

"The  Delft  Plate."  The  backgrounds  always  leave  a 
vague  suggestion  of  silken  tapestry,  the  foregrounds  are 
never  insisted  upon — one  is  scarcely  aware  of  them; 
nearly  always  there  are  those  happily  scattered  bits 
which  Emil  Carlsen  employs  to  help  the  background 
melt  into  the  shadow — sometimes  nutshells,  sometimes 
beads,  and  sometimes  grapes. 

One  of  his  finest  from  the  point  of  view  of  composi- 
tion, is  in  the  possession  of  the  Milch  Galleries.  The 
principal  object  is  a  blue  Chinese  vase,  on  a  teakwood 
stand.  In  front  of  this,  to  one  side,  is  an  ivory-white 
teapot  with  a  lizard  for  a  spout.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
vase  is  a  small  cup  or  bowl,  and  there  are  two  pears  on 
the  table  to  add  variety.  It  is  one  of  those  compositions 
so  delicately  balanced  that  not  a  change  could  be  made 
without  upsetting  the  equilibrium  (Fig.  89). 

Hugh  H.  Bkeckenridge 

Hugh  H.  Breckenridge,  of  Philadelphia,  is  a  still- 
life  painter  with  a  very  distinct  modem  style.  He  paints 
still-Ufe  objects  for  the  emotions  they  arouse  purely  as 
arrangements  of  color,  hence  his  pictures  must  be  seen 
in  the  original  to  be  appreciated. 

The  objects  in  his  pictures  are  those  which  lend  them- 
selves to  brilliant  color  arrangements.  He  combines 
Chinese  jars,  porcelain  plates,  vases  of  iridescent  hues, 
bowls  of  fruit,  strings  of  jewels,  not  for  any  association 
of  ideas,  but  for  their  value  in  color  design.  Nearly  al- 
ways the  backgrounds  are  curtains,  rugs,  or  gorgeous 
materials  which  add  to  the  wealth  and  display  of  color. 
Unlike  Carlsen,  Breckenridge  is  not  interested  in  subtle- 

[222] 


AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

ties  of  form  and  of  texture.  His  is  not  a  fine  crafts- 
manship closely  akin  to  the  arts  and  crafts  of  the  middle 
ages.  And,  unlike  Rittenberg,  he  pays  httle  attention 
to  qualities  of  tone  and  chiaroscuro.  He  does  not  re- 
mind one  of  Vollon  or  Fantin-Latour  or  the  older  mas- 
ters. Undubtedly  he  has  been  affected  by  the  move- 
ment of  which  Cezanne  was  the  inspiring  source.  But 
it  would  be  misleading  to  compare  him  to  that  eccentric 
genius.  Perhaps  the  closest  analogy  to  his  work  would 
be  that  of  Emile  Blanche.  Breckenridge's  art  is  founded 
on  drawing,  and  is  accomplished  and  intelligible,  beyond 
the  experimental  stage.  It  is  an  art  that  pays  respect 
to  the  human  understanding — the  average  man's  idea  of 
the  appearance  of  things.  Yet  one  feels  when  standing 
before  a  painting  by  Breckenridge  that  the  artist's  only 
thought  is  color. 

His  passion  for  voluptuous  color  often  runs  riot,  but 
at  other  times  it  seems  consciously  restrained.  An  ex- 
ample of  his  best  figure  work  is  "The  Nautilus."  Ex- 
hibited in  1909  it  shows  a  fertiale  figure  in  reverie,  with 
delightfully  modeled  throat  and  shoulders,  and  bathed 
in  brilliant  light.  The  nautilus  shell  which  she  holds  in 
her  hand  is  carefully  true  to  nature.  In  his  landscapes 
he  loves  the  same  bright  coloring.  "Black-eyed  Susans" 
is  almost  as  much  a  flower  study  as  a  bit  of  country- 
side. 

A  good  example  of  his  still-life  is  "The  White  Vase" 
now  owned  by  the  San  Francisco  Art  Museum.  Here 
against  a  curtain  background  is,  among  other  objects,  a 
plate,  a  tray,  a  jewel  box,  and,  most  conspicuous  of  all, 
a  tall  ivory-toned  vase;  its  form  is  both  delicately  and 

[223] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

firmly  modeled ;  its  outlines  clear  and  regular.  In  spite 
of  the  painter's  love  for  vigorous  color  and  broadly- 
handled  paint,  it  is  evident  he  pauses  caressingly  over  a 
surface  that  demands  delicacy. 

Breckenridge's  arrangements  are  not  always  decora- 
tive from  the  standpoint  of  linear  design.  But  there  is 
little  criticism  to  make  in  this  respect  of  "The  Chinese 
Jar"  owned  by  Alexander  Simpson,  Esq.,  of  Philadel- 
phia (Fig.  90) .  Here,  against  an  oriental  rug,  is  placed 
a  large,  highly  decorative  jar,  or  pot,  alongside  this  a  tall 
candlestick  with  a  fringed  shade,  and  in  front  a  porcelain 
bowl  of  apples,  with  other  apples  lying  on  the  table.  All 
these  objects  are  broadly  painted,  the  pigment  being  laid 
on  thickly  and  freely,  but  the  forms  are  carefully  pre- 
served and  the  textures  of  the  different  materials  well 
presented.  The  grouping  is  less  casual  than  in  most  of 
the  artist's  still-lives.  The  richness  of  the  color,  however, 
with  its  blue  porcelain  and  golden  fruit,  is  the  picture's 
chief  asset. 

This  is  the  art  of  a  man,  who,  academically  trained, 
is  animated  by  modem  impulses  without  forsaking  the 
universal  principles  of  art.  And  as  such  it  is  a  reproof 
to  the  many  eccentricities  of  the  present  day. 

IV 

Conclusion 

As  long  ago  as  1875,  or  about  then,  Piloty  said  to 
Chase  that  the  next  great  art  movement  would  come 
from  America.  I  am  not  aware  that  Piloty's  prophetic 
insight  was  in  other  respects  reliable,  but  there  are  signs 
that  he  was  right  about  America's  future  in  art.    The 

[  224  ] 


HUGH  H.  BRECKENRIDGE,  THE  CHINESE  JAR 

COLLECTION  OF  ALEXANDER  SIMPSON,  ESQ.,  PHILADELPHIA 


AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

appreciation  of  still-life  pictures  is  an  indication  of  a 
highly  cultivated  artistic  sense.  When  Emil  Carlsen 
came  to  America  no  one  would  buy  his  still-lives.  It  is 
only  recently  that  we  in  America  have  begun  to  appre- 
ciate them,  and  it  is  only  a  beginning.  But  now  we  have 
become  so  familiar  with  the  still-lives  of  Chase,  Dearth 
and  Carlsen,  Manet,  Fantin  and  Cezanne,  that  this 
branch  of  painting  is  acquiring  a  prestige  it  never  had 
before. 

Today  nearly  every  painter  paints  still-lives — not 
merely  for  training,  but  for  exhibition  and  sale.  It 
would  be  impossible  to  mention  every  artist  who  paints 
them,  but  when  one  recalls  that  Jonas  Lie,  Abbott 
Thayer,  E.  Irving  Couse,  Gari  Melchers,  Childe  Has- 
sam,  Eugene  Speicher,  and  Maurice  Fromkes  have  all 
painted  still-lives  of  distinction,  one  can  form  some  idea 
of  the  growing  appreciation  of  this  branch  of  painting. 
While  the  names  just  mentioned  are  those  of  painters 
with  a  reputation  in  other  lines  of  work,  there  are  others 
who  are  rising  to  a  prominent  place  in  the  world  of  art 
simply  as  still-Hfe  painters.  A  number  of  women  paint- 
ers, especially,  are  doing  some  extremely  masterful 
work;  among  these  are  Clara  T.  McChesney,  Dorothy 
Ochtman,  Gladys  Thayer,  Elizabeth  Spencer,  Blanche 
Dillaye,  Maude  M.  Mason  and  Dorothea  Litzinger 
Thompson. 

In  the  recent  Academy  exhibitions  held  in  New  York 
and  Philadelphia  the  number  of  still-lives  has  been  sur- 
prising. In  the  Annual  Exhibition  of  the  Pennsylvania 
Academy  of  Fine  Arts  of  1920,  there  were  no  less  than 
thirty-four  still-lives  of  which  seventeen  were  arrange- 

[  225  ] 


POTS  AND  PANS 

merits  of  flowers.  Most  of  these  were  by  painters  ap- 
parently new  to  the  field  of  still-life.  Everett  L.  Bryant 
contributed  five  canvases,  Lillian  B.  Meeser  four,  and 
others  were  by  Edward  J.  Steichen,  Arthur  B.  Carles, 
Helen  Obertauffer  and  Emma  Fordyce  Macrae. 

It  is  clear  from  an  exhibition  like  this  that  still-life  is 
becoming  popular  with  the  modem  painter  largely  be- 
cause it  furnishes  him  with  motives  for  decoration,  and 
flowers  seems  to  be  the  most  adaptable  to  this  purpose. 
As  in  the  work  of  Everett  L.  Bryant,  Lillian  B.  Meeser 
and  Emma  Fordyce  Macrae,  the  design  is  treated  as 
mosaic,  brilliant,  clever,  emotional.  Sometimes  it  is 
sparkling  in  effect,  pointilUstic,  vibrant,  scintillating  like 
jewels,  at  other  times  it  has  a  broader,  more  tapestry- 
like effect.  One  finds  also  the  effect  of  mediaeval  stained 
glass ;  it  is  then  symbolic.  Even  cubistic  design  is  found, 
as  in  the  work  of  Steichen.  Granted  that  flowers  may 
serve  no  better  purpose  than  to  create  subject  matter 
for  decorative  design,  appealing  entirely  to  the  eye  on 
account  of  their  wealth  of  color,  then  these  painters 
use  them  successfully.  But  one  misses  in  the  exhibitions 
the  deeper  interpretation  of  still-life,  the  personal,  the 
intimate,  the  profound  comprehension  of  silent  things. 

It  is  significant,  in  this  respect,  that  at  the  Philadel- 
phia Academy  exhibition,  just  referred  to,  there  was  but 
one  still-life  picture  which  the  visitor  involuntarily  re- 
members, but  one  which  he  could  not  forget — the  "K'ang 
hse'  and  Quinces"  of  Dines  Carlsen.  And  why?  Its 
appeal  was  not  merely  to  the  outward  eye.  Although 
technically  beyond  criticism,  and  as  decorative  as  any 
other  picture,  more  obviously  so,  its  distinction  rested  in 

[226] 


AMERICAN  STILL-LIFE  PAINTING 

those  qualities  which  are  elemental  in  a  good  still-life, 
the  appreciation  of  the  character  of  things,  the  ex- 
pression of  the  mysterious  emotions  which  things  create. 
Up  until  recent  times  the  average  American  man  (or 
woman)  has  had  little  chance  to  develop  an  appreciation 
for  still-life;  he  has  had  little  opportunity  to  study  it; 
his  awakening  interest  in  art  matters  was  concentrated 
on  the  more  conspicuous  types  of  painting — ^the  anec- 
dote, the  historical  episode,  the  portrait,  the  landscape; 
his  historic  prejudice  was  allowed  to  remain  unchal- 
lenged. But  now  the  challenge  has  been  made ;  still-life 
pictures  are  making  a  demand  that  must  be  recognized. 
And  it  will  be  recognized,  for  the  average  man  is,  after 
all,  covetous  of  what  is  worth  having,  and  now  that  he 
is  being  made  to  see  the  beauty  of  a  still-life,  he  will  de- 
sire either  to  possess  the  thing  itself — a  still-life  painting 
— or  the  love  for  one,  which  is  more  than  the  thing  itself. 


[227] 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Aelst,  Evert  van,  77 

Aelst,  WiUem  van,  of  Delft,  78 

Aertz,  Pieter,  36,  128,  177 

AUeb^,  60,  178,  182 

Alma  Tadema,  13 

Amsterdam,  Ryks  Museum,  34,  55,  60, 

63,  67,  76,  77,  82,  83,  87,  112,  128, 

132 
Amsterdam,  Stedelyk  Museum,  183 
Angelico,  Fra,  7 
Ansingh,  Lizzie,  184,  185 
Antwerp,  Museum,  38,  72 
Apsley   House,   Duke   of   Wellington 

Collection,  95 

Bakhuysen,  van  de  Sande,  178,  182 

Barbari,  Jacopo  de',  27,  39 

Bastert,  183 

Bellini,  Giovanni,  7 

B6n6dit^,  Leonce,   122 

Berlin,  Royal  Museum,  85,  138 

Beukelaer,  Joachim  de,  37 

Beyeren,  Abraham  van,  84,  85,  105, 
127,  282,  203,  207 

Bisschop,  ChristofFel,  177 

Blaise-Desgoffe,  127,  130 

Blanche,  Emil  Jacques,  142 

Blommers,  177 

Bodegones,  or  Spanish  Still-Life  pic- 
tures, 91 

Boel,  Pieter,  62 


Bouvin,  127,  129,  192 

Bock,  Th^ophile  de,  178 

Bonnard,  144 

Bosboom,  9,  177 

Bosschaert,  Ambrosius,  71 

Boston,  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  105, 

166,  204 
Botticelli,  156 
Boucher,  103 
Bouts,  Dirk,  33 
Breughel,  Pieter,  48,  59,  71 
Breughel,  Velvet,  48 
Breviaries  and  Books  of  Hours,  30 
Broek,  Elias  van  den,  75 
Brouwer,  Adrian,  11,  51 
Brunswick  Gallery,  67 
Bryant,  Everett  L.,  226 
Budapest  Gallery,  83 
Bunyoka,  161 
Burne-Jones,  Sir  Edward,  7,  8,  13 

Cambridge,  England,  Fitzwilliam  Mu- 
seum, 57 
Camp,  Joseph  de,  205 
Campin,  Robert,  9,  30,  31 
Capuccino  (Bernardo  Strozzi),  28 
Caravaggio,     Michelangelo     Amerighi 

da,  28 
Caracci,  Annibale,  28 
Carles,  Arthur  B.,  226 
Carlsen,  Emil,  17,  180,  213  S. 


231 


INDEX 


Carlsen,  Dines,  226 

Carpaccio,  Vittorio,  25,  26 

Cellini,  Benvenuto,  7 

Cerquozzi,  Michelangelo,  29 

C^anne,  Paul,  132flf.,  210 

Chardin,  Jean  Baptiste  Simeon,  56,  82, 

101,   103,  131,   135,   136,  180,  203, 

217 
Chase,   William  M.,   131,   135,  201flf., 

217,  221,  225 
Chicago  Art  Institute,  212 
Ch'ien  Shun-Chii'  (Shunkio),  161 
Chinese  Still-Life  Painting,  153 
Christiania  Museum,  138 
Christus,  Petrus,  38 
Claesz,  Pieter,  81,  119,  136 
Coninck,  David  de  62 
Copenhagen  Museum,  37,  60 
Courbet,  Gustav,  107,  136,  142,  192 
Couse,  E.  Irving,  325 
Crivelli,  Carlo,  72 
Cushing,  Howard  Gardiner,  196 
Cuyp,  Albert,  11 

David,  Gerard,  9,  33 

David,  Jacques  Louis,  13,  107 

Dearth,  Henry  Golden,  180,  185,  209, 

210,  211 
Delacroix,  108,  135 
Denis,  Maurice,  135,  143 
Derain,  148 

Dewing,  Maria  Oakey,  196,  198 
Dillaye,  Blanche,  225 
Dillon,  Julia,  196 
Dou,  Gerard,  17,  53,  115,  205 
Dresden,  Royal  Museum,  52,  53,  59, 

67,  74,  83 
Dulac,  Edmund,  197 
DUrer,  Albert,  40 
Duret,  116 
Dysselhof,  185 

Elliger,  72 

Emperor  of  Germany,  story  concern- 
ing fish,  4 


Es,  Jacob  van,  75 
Eyck,  Jan  van,  30 

Fantin-Latour,  121,  12'4,  140,  180,  191, 

192,  223 
Fouk,  68 
Freer,  Charles  L.,  Collection  of,  160, 

166,  199 
Fromkes,  Maurice,  225 
Fruter,  Franz,  92 
Fyt,  Jan,  61,  219 

Gabriel,  178 

Gabron,  Wm.,  81 

Gakutei,  172 

Gauguin,  143 

Geflfroy,  122 

G^ricault,  108 

Ghirlandaio,  Domenico,  24 

Giorgione,  11 

Giotto,  7,  24,  145,  155 

Gleizes,  148 

Goedoriendt,  186 

Goes,  Hugo  van  der,  31,  33 

Goya,  115 

Goyen,  Jan  van,  11 

Greuze,  8 

Grube,  129 

Gysbrechts,  Franciscus,  fig.  48 

Haanen,  Adriana,  178,  181 

Hague,  The,  Mauritzhuis  Gallery,  34, 

60,  63,  71,  79,  82,  87,  178 
Hague,    The,    Hoogendyk    Collection, 

pictures  of  C^anne,  Figs.  63  and 

64 
Hals,  Franz  the  Younger,  81,  113,  128 
Hanley,  Robert,  Collection  of,  220 
Harunobu,  170 
Hassam,  Childe,  59 
Hawthorne,  Charles  W.,  205,  206 
Haverman,  Margareta,  80 
Heda,  Gerrit  Willems,  81 
Heda,  Willera  Claesz,  81,  119 
Heem,  de,  family  of,  75 
Heem,  Cornells  de,  75 


INDEX 


338 


Heem,  David  de,  75 

Heem,  Jan  de,  of  Utrecht,  57,  72,  75 

Heem,  Jan  Davidszoon  de,  72,  75,  79, 

194 
Heem,  Jan  de,  the  Younger,  75 
Hemissen,  Jan  Sanders  van,  36 
Henri,  Robert,  51 
Herrera,  Francesco,  93 
Heussen,  Claes  van,  81 
Hobbema,   11 
Hogarth,   8 
Hokkei,  172 
Hokusai,  171 

Holbein,  Hans,  the  Younger,  41 
Hondekoeter,  Melchior  d',  65,  67,  186 
Hoog,  Pieter  do,  127,  205 
Hoytema,  van,  186 
Hunt,  William  Morris,  193 
Hsu  Hsi   (Joki),  160,  166 
Huang  Ch'uan   (Kosen),  160 
Huysum,  Jan  van,  73,  76,  78,  194 
Huysum,  Justus  van,  76 

Ingres,  Jean  Dominique,  13,  108 
Israels,  Josef,  9,  18,  177 

Jongkind,  9,  178 
Jongkint,  182 
Jordaens,  Jacob,  37 
Josetsu,  164 

Kal£f,  Willem,  73,  91,  85,  180 

Kano  School  in  Japan,  165 

Kempenaer,  Pieter,  92 

Kever,  177 

Klinkenberg,  183 

Koelkhoek,  183 

Koets,  Roelof  Claesz,  81 

Korin,  168  ff. 

Koyetsu,  166,  168 

Kuo  Hsi  (Kakki),  156,  161 

Lafarge,  John,  126,  191  ff. 
Lancret,  12,  103 
Landseer,  Sir  Edwin,  66 


Largillierfe,  12 

Leger,  148 

Leighton,  Sir  Frederick,  13 

Lelienbergh,  Cornells,  67 

Leonardo  da  Vinci,  7 

Leopold,  Emperor,  Patron  of  Still- 
Life  Painters,  79 

Leutze,   129 

Lie,  Jonas,  225 

Li  Ti,  160 

Lockwood,  Wilton,  196 

London,   Buckingham   Palace   Collec- 
tion, 50,  53 

London,  National  Gallery,  SO,  35,  SO, 
56,  67,  94 

Loos,  van.  Brothers,  12  and  note 

Lorenzetti,  Pietro,  23 

Lorrain,  Claude,  13 

Louis  XIV,  7,  79,  102 

Louis  XV,  7,  103 

Lou  Kuan,  160 

Luttichuys,  Simon,  88. 

Macrae,  Emma  Fordyce,  226 

Madrid  Academy,  98 

Maes,   Nicholas,   55,   115 

Makart,  201 

Manet,  Eduard,  113,  115,  117ff.,  120, 

131,  133,  140,  155,  193 
Mantegna,    72 
Maris  Brothers,  9,  178 
Maris,  Jacob,  178 
Martini,  Simone,  197 
Masaccio,  7,  24,  154 
Masanobu,  165 
Mason,  Maude  M.,  225 
Matahei,  169 
Matisse,  Henri,  145,  147 
Matsys,  Quentin,  34,  89,  57,  128 
Mauve,  Anton,  9,  178 
McChesney,  Clara  T.,  225 
McFadden,  Frederic  M.,  Collection  of, 

219 
Meeser,  Lillian  B.,  226 
Melchers,  Gari,  225 


334 


INDEX 


Memling,  Hans,  33 

Messina,  Antonello  da,  94 

Metsu,  Gabriel,  11,  56,  115,  128 

Metzinger,  148 

Meulen,  van  der,  12 

Michelangelo,  7 

Mieris,  Franz  van,  the  Younger,  56, 

205 
Mieris,  Willera  van,  56 
Mignon,  Abraham,  76,  194 
Millet,  Jean  Francois,  38,  177 
Monet,  Claude,  133,  141,  193 
Moroni,  27 
Moronobu,  170 
Mu  Ch'ii  (Mokkei),  155 
Munich   Pinakothek,  36,  52,  61,  80 
Munkacsy,  129 

Nain,  Le,  Brothers,  12 

Neefs,  Pieter,  177 

Negroponte,  Antonio  da,  73 

Netscher,  Caspar,  11 

Neuhuys,  177 

New  York, 
Mrs.  Michael  Dreicer  Collection,  311 
Mr.  John  Gellatly  Collection,  199 
Metropolitan    Museum,   49,   53,   61, 
74,  84,  106,  115,  129,  197,  203,  216 
Montross  Galleries,  146 
Mr.  B.  M.  Philipp  Collection,  194 
Mrs.  F.  B.  Pratt  Collection,  211 
Public  Library,  129 

Obertaufer,  Helen,  226 
Ochtman,  Dorothy,  225 
Oosterwyk,  Maria  van,  75,  79 
Os,  Margareta  van,  80 
Os,  Maria  van,  181 
Os,  Jan  van,  80,  181 
Ostade,  Adrian  van,  11 
Ottawa,  Canada,   National  Art  Gal- 
lery, Fig.  56. 

Pacheco,  Francesco,  93 


Palatine,  Count,  Patron  of  decorative 

flower  painters,  79 
Paris, 

Louvre,  77,  104,  118,  132 

Luxembourg  Gallery,  130,  144 

Belvalette  Collection,  124 

Rosenburg  Collection,  124 

Peytel  Collection,  170 

Vever  Collection,  171 
Pater,  103 

Paxton,  William  M,  205 
Pereda,  Antonio,  98 
Perugino,  7,  215 

Petrograd,    Former    Hermitage    Col- 
lection, 54,  60,  94,  98 
Philadelphia, 

Mrs.  William  L.  Elkins  Collection, 
84 

Johnson  Collection,  88 

Mr.  Joseph  Widener  Collection,  85, 
88 

Wilstach  Collection,  62,  68,  81,  138, 
132 
Phillips,  Duncan,  219 
Picabia,  148 
Picasso,  Pablo,  148 
Piloty,  59,  201 
Pissarro,  133 
Poggenbeek,  178 
PoUaiuolo,  156 
Poussin,  Nicholas,  13 
Poynter,  13 
Preyer,  129 
Proust,  122 

Puvis  de  Chavannes,  8,  13 
Pyle,  Howard,  197 

Ravesteyn,  Hubert  van,  Fig.  47 

Reid,  Whitelaw,  Collection  of,  199 

Rembrandt,  47,  128 

Ribera,  128 

Ribot,  129 

Richmond,  Cook  Collection,  95 

Ringh,  Pieter  de,  75 


INDEX 


935 


Ririomin  (Li  Lung-Mien),  155 

Rittenberg,  Henry  R,  307,  208,  209 

Robbe,  129 

Robinson,  Sir  J.  C,  Collection  of,  95 

Robertson,  Suze,  185 

Roelofs,  Willem,  178 

Roelofs,  Willem,  Jr.,  182 

Roepel,  Conrad,  78 

Roestraten,  Pieter,  81,  88 

Rossetti,  7 

Rousseau,  Theodore,  129 

Rousseau,  Philippe,  137,  128 

Roymerswael,  Marinus  van,  35,  '41 

Rubens,  collaborator  with  Snyders,  59 

Ruisdael,  11 

Ruysch,  Rachel,  79 

Ryckaert,  David  III,  52 

San  Francisco,  Art  Museum,  223 
Schalcken,  Godfried,  54 
Scotland,  T.  G.  Arthur  Collection,  131 
Schongauer,  Martin,  39 
Schouman,  Aert,  67,  181 
Schriek,  Otto  Marseus  van,  67,  78 
Schwerin  Gallery,  67 
Seghers,  Daniel,  71 
Sesshu,    165 

Seville,  Hospital  de  la  Caridad,  96 
Shigenaga,  170 
Shinsai,  172 
Shubun,  164 

Simpson,  Alexander,  Collection  of,  224 
Sluyters,  Jan,  187 

Smith  College  Collection,  Northamp- 
ton, Mass.,  199 
Smit,  Hobbe,  187 
Snyders,  Franz,  56,  60  ff. 
Sotatsu,  168,  200 
Speicher,  Eugene,  225 
Spencer,  Elizabeth,  225 
Springer,  183 
Steen,  Jan,  11 

Stirling  Collection,  England,  98 
Steichen,  Edward,  226 


Streeck,  Jurian  van,  88 
Sturm,  Ferdinand,  92 

Tanyu,  170 

Tarbell,  EdmUnd  C,  205 

Teniers,  David,  the  Younger,  48  flF., 

128,  205,  217 
Teniers,  David,  the  Elder,  48 
Terborch,  11,  205 
Thayer,  Abbott,  325 
Thayer,  Gladys,  325 
Thompson,  Dorothea  Litzinger,  55,  325 
Titian,  37 

Toledo  Museum,  Ohio,  131 
Treck,  Jan  Jans,  88 

Uffizi  Gallery,  Florence,  48 

Utanosuke,    165 

Utrecht,  Adriaen  van,  62,  75 

Vallaton,  Felix,  143 

Valdes  Leal,  Don  Juan  de,  96 

Vanitas  Pictures,  95 

Valkenburg,  Dirk,  65 

Vasquez,  Alonzo,  91 

Velasquez,  92,  114  ff. 

Vermeer,  Jan,  10,  127,  178,  305,  218 

Veronese,  Paolo,  26 

Verster,  Floris,  184 

Vienna  Hofmuseum,  38,  98 

Vlaminck,  Maurice  de,  144 

Vliet,  Jacob  van,  177 

VoUon,   Antoine,    126,   137,   132,    143, 

180,  192,  198,  207,  219  333 
Vos,  Maria,  67,  80,  178,  181 
Vosmaer,  Jacob,  73 
VuiUard,  143 

Wang  Wei  (Omakitsu),  159 
Watts,  8,  13 

Watteau,  7,  13,  103,  103 
Wang  Yo-Sui,  163 
Weenicx,  Jan,  63,  186 
Weenicx,   Jan   Baptiste,   62 


336 


INDEX 


Weir,  J.  Alden,  201 

Weissenbruch,  178 

Weyden,  Roger  van  der,  33 

Whistler,  155,  193,  197 

William  III,  of  Holland,  Patron  of 

Still-Life  Painters,  12,  79 
Witsen,  Willem,  183 
Witte,  Emmanuel  de,  177 
Winter,  de,  187 


Wohlgemuth,  Michael,  39 

Worcester   Art   Museum,   Worcester, 

Mass,  218 
Wu  Tao  Tsu  (Godoshi),  159 
Wyngaerdt,  187 

Yamada,  Doan,  166 

Zwart,  de,  187 


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